


Better Not To Breathe Than to Breathe A Lie

by t0bemadeofglass



Series: These Choices Seal Our Fate [1]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Altered Backstory, Alternate Universe - Asgard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Complete, F/M, Norse Canon Divergence, Prompt Fic, Sex, Slow Build, Trigger Warning: Rape -- Ch. 6, War, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 88,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earth was so much more to the Aesir than a planet to protect; it was their right as divine deities to own it.  To conquer, and rule, and subjugate those beneath them.  Under the rule of Odin Allfather the Aesir invade Earth, never thinking that the humans might strike back, fight to keep their planet.  Natasha Romanov, a member of the Russian resistance known as the Red Room, isn't about to let them take all she's ever known without a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peace or Annihilation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolves_and_girls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolves_and_girls/gifts).



> So, remember that one time where I said I wasn't going to write anything or get involved with anything until AFTER November?
> 
> ..My brain hates me, apparently. That and the absolutely amazing Jessy had probably one of the best ideas for a fic ever and didn't mind me running away with it. And I'm talking literally running away with it because I haven't stopped thinking about it since she told me the idea. 
> 
> And thus this beauty was born. So, I hope you enjoy because I'm loving writing this and I really hope you like it as much as I do. It's a slow build, eventual Blackfrost fic, and trust me: there will be feels. Lots, and lots. More than my usual.
> 
> Thanks!

Natasha was too young to remember the very beginning of the War, only having been a child in Russia at the time.  She’d been told that it had stretched for at least a year before it hit Stalingrad, and all she could remember was the quick warning the advancing gods had given was the high pitched hum of their transportation beam before it connected with their land, obliterating the building that had once stood where its rainbow light had landed.  As the Asgardians had advanced, their shields held high to protect themselves from the bullets and bombs, even as their skin glowed with magic and strength and immortality so blatant it was nearly painful to look at, Natasha’s parents had rushed her out of the house before it collapsed on them, the aftershocks of the latest bomb having rocked the foundations of their meager house.

“Natalia,” her mother had said, using her name before the War, the one Natasha would only ever associate with innocence and a life before the Red Room or War.  “Follow me.  Whatever you do, keep your eyes on me.”  She’d squeezed her daughter’s hand gently, before tugging her further along and away from the destruction.  Her father had disappeared into the smoke and chaos that came with the destruction, forcing Natalia and her mother to struggle forward.  The grey scarf once wrapped around her mother’s neck now pressed to Natalia’s face, allowing her to breathe in the familiar scent of lavender and home without choking on the smoke that had her mother coughing hard.  

All it took was the quickest closing of her eyes, the fluttering shut of her eyelids against the smoke that made her eyes burn, and the pressure of the older woman’s hand on Nat’s wrist disappeared.  By the time she opened her eyes once more there was a tall, thick-set man standing in front of her, his hair white and expression sympathetic.  He was a soldier, the name “Petrovich” sewn on the left, just above the heart.  His hand reached out to her, his brown eyes burning as they met hers.  Around them the world shook and Natalia shook with it, terror coursing through her veins.  

“Where’s mama?” She asked, hiccuping as she pulled the scarf down from around her mouth and nose, before promptly choking on the smoke.  The man, Petrovich, pulled her into his arms as the shouting and noise crescendoed, getting closer to the pair of them.

“Stay with me and you’ll be safe,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear over the next bomb’s explosion, this one closer than all the previous.  When the noise of it subsided all she could hear was the marching of feet, bringing troops even closer to where they were.  Natalia couldn’t help but scream, body trembling as she pulled away to close her hands over her ears, eyes shut tight as she cried, her tears hot as they ran down her face.  A hand closed tight around her arm, yanking her away so Petrovich could shout for her to follow him.  Her blue eyes were wide as she watched him drag her on through the torn, destroyed city.  The buildings around them had been split in two, some cracked down the middle, others barely hanging together as whole sides had been blown apart.  Natalia could hardly believe it, blinking quickly as they passed.  Her mother had bought fresh bread from that store, and discussed the weather and schools with one of their neighbors in the next building while Natalia had chased around the other school boys.  Her small hands gripped the wool of her mother’s scarf tight, burying her face in it as Petrovich led her to safety.  In the back of her mind even she could grasp that nothing would be the same again.  

 

Petrovich had insisted, as Natalia had grown up, that she learn how to fight.  “The Aesir won’t care whether you’re a woman or man, child or adult or elder cripple.  They will kill those who oppose them until they have destroyed our entire way of life.”  He’d warned her once after she’d woken up with dreams of bombs and smoke and a hand that kept reaching for her, trying to whisk her to safety, when all she could do was stumble and cry.  “They killed your mother and father Natalia, but I can give you the revenge you seek for their deaths.”

And so training had begun.  Every morning she was up before the sun, every evening she didn’t go to bed until it had long past disappeared over the horizon.  Running, weaponry, hand to hand combat, target practice, martial arts, flexibility training, it all blended together in Natasha’s mind.  When she cried she was scolded and left to suffer alone, unable to move until her trainer returned, and when she did well she was given a sweet, or a new weapon.  There weren’t room for toys or sentiment in Ivan Petrovich’s world, not when the war had forced those conveniences aside, and all it took was one tanning for Natalia to understand why.  

“You think this pain is bad now?” He asked as she sobbed and screamed, her backside burning and bleeding from where his belt had hit her.  “Remember your mother and what those monsters did to her!  Remember those who we’ve lost to their savagery, Natalia.  Remember the pain of the dead and the strength that you, as a living member of this world, must endure because those bastards remain.”

His words were an anchor in her heart, keeping her head level as he beat her harder and harder with each new infraction she incurred.  She pushed herself harder at Petrovich’s demands, forcing her body more than she’d ever thought possible, not stopping until she collapsed and her lungs and heart felt dangerously close to bursting.  Upon the completion of her training she was rechristened Natasha Romanov, a fighter, and Natalia disappeared deep into the new fighter’s conscious.  Natalia was weak, where Natasha could do what she needed.  She could fight.  As she worked to constantly improve herself she met others, most of whom were as passionate as she was and more often than not with vendettas against the intruders as strong as hers.  Against her best judgement she went as far as to create strong bonds with her fellow soldiers.  They all had a common enemy, she reasoned with herself.  Why not at least get to know the others?

Alexei had lost all he’d had, too, to the Aesir, and the pair had learned to fight alongside one another without issue surprisingly quickly.  Ivan was more than pleased to see it, sending them on small excursions and missions in order for the pair to grow used to the way they worked, not pleased with their progress until he was certain they could all but read one another’s mind in the field, able to infiltrate and discover the plans of the offensive side.

 

“Hey, Natasha.”  His voice called out after her from halfway down the hall, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling in spite of herself when she turned to watch Alexei jog down the hall to catch up with her.  He was smiling as well, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a squeeze.  It didn’t last long, the pair pulling away moments later.  The last thing they wanted was Ivan to get angry for them growing too close.  Too comfortable.  It made things more difficult when they eventually, and it would happen, split up to tackle missions on their own.  

“Hey yourself.  What, you can’t find any other girl to hassle?” She asked, arching a brow as she dabbed once more at the sweat beading on her forehead.  

“Nah.  No one else gives me a hard time like you do. And I wanted to talk to you about something.”  

She might’ve stopped if they were anywhere more private, her brow pulling down as she looked over at him.  What was so important that he had to sound like that when he brought it up?  More than once he tipped his head from side to side, making sure they were alone.  Nat’s heart picked up a little.  This was exactly what Ivan had warned her against.  His hand made its way to her shoulder to stop her, standing just opposite her as the hand drifted up to push a curl of red hair away from her face.  Her stomach flipped.  

“Do you,” he paused, looking down, then back up at her, brown eyes soft and curious.  “Think you could help me go clean the guns for tomorrow?  Ivan said he wanted to make sure--ow!”

“Ass,” Natasha spat, though she was rolling her eyes and grinning.  

“What!  Just saying, he wants to make sure everything’s perfect.  Big day tomorrow.”  Alexei grinned as he rubbed his shoulder where Nat’s fist had connected with him.  “Finally getting out into the field.  The real field.”

 

They’d gone to Siberia to infiltrate a meeting of Aesir supporters, guns locked and at their sides as they slipped onto the grounds and into the large building.  Little opposition had been found once inside, giving Natasha the first outline of hope.  All they needed to do, now, was listen in, interrogate those who they could manage to sneak away from the rest of the group--.  

Not once had they been told there would be so many adversaries there.  Aesir, yes.  They’d planned for that, trained for that.  But a host of them?  

Alexei fell forcing Natasha into hiding, shooting ineffectual bullets at the oncoming Aesir.  If it had been a single, or even a duo, they might’ve stood a chance.  Now?  They ran him through with their blades, slicing through him like paper until there was little left whole of Alexei.  He dropped, blank eyed and bloodied, slack mouthed and still on the carpet just in front of the small cupboard where he’d forced Natasha into.  She held her hands tight around her mouth, tears wetting her fingertips, the salt stinging the cuts on her face.  The Aesir left and Natasha remained, stupid, sobbing silently into the darkness of her cupboard.  Under cover of night she brought Alexei back.  They burned his body, Natasha silent, empty in front of the pyre.  Ivan squeezed her shoulder from behind, promised vengeance.  Revenge in its more pure form.  

 

A week later, once she pulled herself onto her feet, wiped her salt-crusted cheeks and slipped into the second skin she called a catsuit she signed herself up for the newest program.  The Russians had managed to steal the base for a super soldier serum and she wanted it.  

 

It worked.  

 

She was faster, stronger, could hear and think better than most humans.  As she tested herself she wondered if Alexei would’ve survived with this, if he would’ve somehow come out on top with her at his back.  Would be be fighting and training with her today?  As she pushed her body until she once again collapsed, hundreds rather than tens of miles ran, she wondered if he could’ve fought them off, kept from being slain.  Shit.  Her thoughts often turned dark, and she’d forced herself to learn how to compartmentalize.  To train her brain how to stop thinking about it all.  Instead, she pulled her quaking knees up to her chin, waited until the shaking subsided, until her breathing leveled out.  Until she could think again without seeing his face each time she shut her eyes.  

 

“Do you miss him?”  Ivan asked her one evening as Natasha sat in the small infirmary, allowing her body to heal itself from the last mission. S he’d been successful, the only one to get any injuries as she’d brought her minimal crew back.  She’d thrown herself into the fire, into the fray, wanting to decimate the enemy.  To make them hurt.  To show these fuckers exactly how strong the humans they thought they could repress could be.  

“I don’t want to talk about him.”  She stood, needing to get away as the room started to close in, getting close.  Too close.  She needed sleep, she would say.  It sounded plausible, though the reality they both knew was that if she had to she could spend at least a week awake without any consequences.  At least that was as far as she’d gotten.  

“Natalia.”  She hated that name, but the gravity of it made her stop.  “Your revenge will make you fool hardy.”

“You promised it to me when he died,” she spat.

“I needed you to pull yourself out of your depression, but the desire you have for it will drive you mad.”

“So what do I do, Ivan?” She demanded, twisting to look at him, fury wrapped in disbelief in her eyes.  How dare he?  

“You think.  Plan.  Consider each possibility and you do not rush in without due consideration.”  He fixed her with a hard glare.  “You strategize.  Getting yourself killed will not bring him back.”

“And not doing anything, not doing as much as we can, is an insult to his memory,” she countered.  “They’re winning, Ivan.  Maybe you’ve forgotten that, trapped inside your little red room here, but we’re not doing well.  At all.  I’m not going to let them all take us down, not without a fight Ivan.”  

“Then slow.  Down.  You are a good fighter but without a brain attached you are nothing more than super soldier cannon fodder.”  He grew quiet for a moment, thinking as he stared at the ground, as though planning what to do next.  “I want you to show up to Yelena Belova’s room tomorrow.  No missions for a week; you’re going to learn how to think.  Seduce.  Plan and let your adversaries fall on their own swords.”

“Ivan--.”

His hand struck out against her.  She hadn’t been hit in years, and the sting against her cheek brought surprised tears to the corners of her eyes before she pushed them back.  He wouldn’t see her cry, not again. “You’ll be there, soldier.”

A brief beat passed between them.  “Yes, sir.”

 

She never liked Yelena before, but the woman had an annoying habit of knowing what she was doing and being damn good at it.  Just as Natasha was an expert at disarming the enemy with a gun, Yelena could give a man a look from halfway across the room and have him crumbling at her feet.  She’d done it before and even Nat couldn’t deny it was impressive.  More than once Alexei had visited the blonde woman, and though Nat had once gotten jealous she found, well, he was obviously more than entitled his see whoever he wanted.  Now Yelena seemed to be the only one who understood the hole the spy had left.  She sat rather demurely in front of Natasha, eyes closed as she centered herself with deep, slow breaths, pulling herself back from the edge.  Natasha knew; she’d done the same thing over and over again.   

When Yelena finally comes back to her it’s with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.  “Ivan sent you because he wants you to learn how to seduce?”

“I already can,” Natasha couldn’t help but growl, defensive.  Yelena doesn’t say a word, just fixes her with a look, one they both know to mean that if Nat could do her job the way that Ivan liked it she’d be out in the field, not sitting there.  Natasha hates that she knows this.  “Fine.  I’m here to learn a few of your tricks.”

“It’s more than just tricks.  It’s a mentality.  As a woman your body will always be your greatest weapon.  We carry so much strength and weight in our bodies that it’s a sin for us to not use them to our advantage.”  She breathed deep, though she was trying to force herself to remain on topic.  “What’s more: it’s easiest to let a man get between your legs.  They invite themselves to the slaughter, so to speak, practically line up for it.  The right amount of pressure applied with your thighs on a man’s body?  What with you being a super soldier?”

Natasha allowed herself to smile a little.  She’d never thought of it that way.  

They sat together and strategized for a little while, going over different maneuvers Yelena had learned.  She’d once been trained in the brothels of Moscow before the city had been decimated, and Ivan had taken her in as a favor to the man who’d owned the building.  After a few hours with her Natasha could understand why, and didn’t blame Alexei any longer for how taken by the blonde woman as he was.  She was good.  

Natasha would just have to be better.  

 

She earned herself a new title after the first week following her training, having gone out to make her way to a small party and returned with useful information.  With it, they could manufacture new weapons, weapons greater than steel to cut through the Aesir’s armor.  As the others were given orders to replicate the metals creation with the latest shipment of confiscated goods from the same party, Ivan grinned over at her.  

“How did you do it?”

“He couldn’t resist a redhead dressed in leather,” she chuckled, her voice more sultry than before as she began to adapt her mentality, start a new segment of her life.  

Ivan seemed to be on the same thought process.  “We should start calling you a black widow,” he said with a chuckle, only half kidding.  She could read the seriousness in his eyes as he gave her the same look he’d fixed her with what felt like decades ago.  

 

The next mission she went to as different than any of the others.  It’d been a month into her new training and she’d begun living up to her newest reputation, seducing and murdering those who were most useful, not letting any in her path.  It was helping; the humans were fighting back.  With the new weapons, they were able to resist further invasion, and drive out those Aesir who’d thought they’d made claims to the earth.  At least that was what Natasha had heard.  None of that mattered now, she supposed, not when she had her target in sight.  She’d been brought to the gala under a false name, and the dress they’d put her in was long with a deep open back, deep green in color, helping her look every inch the part of a rich benefactor.  It helped, too, that as she walked she felt the eyes of the men of the room following her, latching onto the confidence she exuded.  Good.  They would try and gain confidence, argue, and most importantly try and tell her things to impress her.  She wouldn’t have to dirty her hands too much; the quicker she got in and out the better.  Slowly she raised the flute of champagne to her lips, taking an even sip as she looked around the room.  

The host, a tall and portly man with auburn hair and a laugh loud enough to rattle her bones, stood near the very head of the room, surrounded by sycophants and body guards.  Interesting that the guards were human and not Aesir.  She’d gotten damn good at recognizing who was human and who wasn’t; they wore their age on their sleeve, making it far too simple to discern.  Only those who looked as though they’d gone through hell and back could be mortal, the creases on their faces telling her infinitely more than any words could of the struggles they’d gone through, the suffering.  Interesting to see how these women and men around her hid their as best they could, but there was no hiding the past when it was that painful.  How many had been bribed, she wondered, into showing up to give money and resources to the intruders’ cause?  How many had family on the line, or had already lost it, to the infestation?

It only stiffened her resolve to work harder.

She strode closer to the man, her blue eyes catching his dark brown ones.  Had he been a more adventurous type he might’ve gone after her, but he didn’t seem to have any interest in her, too busy drinking as much as he could.  So she’d have to make the first move.  Slowly she made her way closer, under the guise of being lured into interesting conversation, until she was close enough to press a hand to the man’s broad shoulder.  He turned, smiling through a thick auburn beard at her.  

“Yes?” He asked, voice jovial.

“Are you Vincent Caraway?” She asked, smiling in a demure fashion, eyes sweeping the ground for a quick moment before looking back up.  

“Yes, I am.  Who might you be my dear?”

“Natalia Rostov, sir.  I’m a huge fan of your work.”

“My work?” Vincent asked, tipping back the rest of his drink before calling for another.  She knew he was large, but where the hell was he putting it all?

“Yes.  Your interest in bringing the Aesir here,” Natasha said, squeezing his arm a little, surprised to feel muscle underneath the padding of the suit.  He didn’t look like he’d be the working out sort.  His face contorted a little, eased up with her words.

“Ah.  Yes.  You’re very clever to be putting those two together, aren’t you?” He asked, eyebrows rising as another drink was brought to him.  Natasha felt her smile falter just in the slightest.  What?  “After all no one else knows what I’m doing here, yet you figured it out.  How?”

Shit.  “Well, it’s not hard to see that the Aesir have been good to you,” she caught herself quickly, allowing a small chuckle to leave her lips.  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be so forward.  Truly, if I’ve offended you I can just see myself out.”  She was already backtracking when one of his hands shot out, quicker than it should’ve been, to latch onto her wrist.  She barely fought back a shout of surprise and dismay at it, barely stopping her hand from moving to the knife she’d been equipped with.  There was no way--no fucking way--no, she’d been so sure about everything!  

“They have been.  They can be a most kind host when not provoked and when listened to.”  His eyes burned into hers and she felt her stomach sink a little as his hand tightened around her wrist.  “Is there something you’d like to talk about or did you simply come up here to make a fool out of yourself by pretending to know more than you do?”

“N-no,” she forced herself to stammer.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to touch a sore point like I said.”  

“You didn’t, dear.  Why don’t you come with me where we can talk about this a little more privately?  I do not like the thought of being overheard.”  He said, though his smile was tense and his eyes narrowed slightly.  Her heart lodged itself in her throat as she pulled herself out of her grip as hard as she could.  It barely moved a muscle.  Her eyes widened.  She’d made a huge mistake.  

“Please let me go,” she said, voice quiet, losing the pretense of being afraid in favor of slipping into a different persona, a comfortable one.  Natasha Romanov, trained killer, super soldier, the black widow.  She could get out of this, right?  “Or I’ll scream.”

“You’ll be knocked out before you can make a sound.  You really should learn your limit on alcohol.”  He said just as quickly and quietly.  “Now, do you really want to cause a scene?”

“Do you?” She seethed, blue eyes narrow as he pulled her closer.  It looked as though they were having a simple disagreement, though no one seemed to be paying attention.  A pity, she was banking on it.  The others seemed in a daze, though, and the ballroom was filling up quickly with other people, almost as though they were being herded in.  Each of them had a dazed expression, curious as they tripped and stumbled over their own feet.  Where once there had been music, it was now nearly silent save the chatter.  She recognized one or two from the Red Room’s list of suppliers.

This wasn’t a gala, it was a slaughter.  

The thought was the last one that registered before her world went black around her, barely acknowledging a surprised voice hissing: “Volstagg!”

 

It was hot.  Too hot.  She tossed and turned, trying to open her eyes, tried to push off the blankets that covered her.  Except there weren’t any, and the heat kept getting worse, pain manufacturing itself in her feet.  She sat up just in time to pull them back with a gasp, her eyes wide as she looked around the burning room.  There were screams and cries from those still living around her while the stench of burning flesh caught her nose and throat, making her gag.  The whole place was awash with flames, the doors around them barred and the windows done the same.  There were pleas from a good portion of those who had been brought in from the door, each of them pounding at the wood, begging for their lives.  None of them seemed strong enough to get through.  Natasha tore off part of her skirt and tied it around her nose and mouth after another wave of smoke hit her full force.  She hated fired, and more than that hated what it reminded her of.  No time to think of that now, though.  The knife she’d carried was gone, as was the gun that was hidden even further up her skirt.  Perverts.  The diamond necklace around her throat, however, that would help.  Scrambling over to one of the windows she pushed her way past one of the men trying to break through it.  Exposing the sharp tip of the jewel by twisting it around, she ripped the necklace off and traced around the size of the window pane with the edge, trying to maintain as straight a line as she could even as she coughed and her eyes watered.  This had to work.  It had to.  

_Please._

After completing the square she managed to slam her fist hard enough for the glass to pop out and fall to the ground below.  At least they were only a story up.  With a vent for the smoke to get out, Nat had a little more luck with the second pane, though the bastards trying to squeeze through the first were jostling her as they struggled for freedom.  The first few were still drugged, as well as woozy from the smoke.  They didn’t make it very far before arrows sank through their skulls.  Natasha looked off into the distance.  She couldn’t see the archers, but it made sense. _Fuck._

Still, she had no other option.  This time instead of letting the glass fall through she caught it as best she could.  With two panes gone she could slip through the opening much easier, having broken through the small wooden divider, and when she jumped through the hole she managed to land on two of her feet.  She brought the panel of glass up just in time for the arrow to catch in the glass, and rolled out of the way to miss the second, third, and fourth, making it behind a tree just at the edge of the house.  How many other archers were out there?  The others that were trying to make their way through the hole she’d left were falling to their death, either from the fall itself or the volley that awaited them, and she thought she heard steps as someone was brought closer.  Just as they began to edge around the side, the string to their bow being pulled, she shifted her weight to the other side, lowering herself down to the ground far enough that she wouldn’t been seen at first.  When the soldier did eventually found on her his bow was placed too high at first, leaving himself open.  Her fist drove into his groin, right on level with the rest of her, and in his shock she grabbed the bow from him, breaking the string, and with the arrow tip in hand she shoved it through his eye socket.  The man snarled and swore, moving to pull the arrow from its newest home, but she’d grabbed the sword from his side and ran it over his throat by the time he’d come close.  His blood covered her dress and torso as it sprayed everywhere, but she had no time for that.  The sword was heavy in her hands but she had no time to look for a knife or anything lighter, and so ran with it as best she could, dangerously lopsided but alive.  Alive and breathing.  

She hadn’t anticipated the burst of rainbow light in front of her, the impressive figure in gold to stand in front of her, spear pointed at her breast so close that if she hadn’t stopped on a dime she’d have run herself through with its tip.  Shit.  She’d know this man even if it wasn’t by his weapon alone.  The Allfather, they called him.  Father and king to the Aesir.  He was the reason for all their suffering.  

It was stupid, she knew, but she saw red when the identity of the new man finally registered, and her sword swung out on its own accord she swore, clashing loudly with the metal spear.  The Allfather watched with great interest as she swung the great sword once more, trying to slice him open with it.  Lazily he drew his spear in front of him, deflecting with ease as she threw everything she had into the fight.  What she wouldn’t do for a gun.  

Once or twice he got her, but she managed to slip the sword through his defences once or twice to deliver small cuts and blows.  It was better than nothing, she supposed, taking his hisses of pain as signs that she was doing well as she tried to drive him back, only succeeding in making him angrier with her.  Eventually he swung the staff hard enough to knock her across the back, the blow taking her off guard and forcing her to drop the sword.  It flew off too far for her to reach out for it, and though she struggled to get to it on all fours he stepped in front of her before she could move so much as half a foot.  The tip of the spear touched her throat gently, tipping her chin up so she could glower at the man they called father.  He looked more amused than angry, and it only fed her fire.  She spat at him, and though the glob of saliva didn’t meet its target the message was sent.  Again he didn’t look angry, only tipped her further up so she had no other choice but to stand.  Fine.  If she was going to die at least it’d be with some dignity.  

“What is your name, soldier?” The Allfather asked, sounding more curious than anything else.

“Natasha Romanov,” she growled.  Not that it’d matter, so why was he asking?

“You’re fast for a human.  And strong.”  

“I have to be; you bastards are hard to kill.”

The smirk that reached his lips wasn’t in any way comforting.  “How long have you been fighting?”

“All my life.  Fifteen years; I was five when you assholes came down.”

The blade left the smallest of cuts down her face, mixing the ash and dirt already coating her skin so it stung.  She refused to show so much as an inch of weakness.  “Watch your tone.  I could have you skewered in a second.”

So why didn’t he?

There were a few minutes of silence left, in which Natasha refused to look away from the one-eyed asshole in front of her, refused to let him win.  He could kill her but he’d never break her spirit.  It couldn’t be broken not anymore, not now that she’d reinforced with steel from all the times life had made mincemeat of it.  

“I think you’ll do nicely.”  He smirked as he took a step closer.  He towered over her, and though she was short to begin with she wondered why it was that every Aesir had to be so freakishly tall.  It hurt her neck having to look up all the time dammit, and she wanted to see the light leave his eyes.  

The dagger she’d noticed on the outside of his armor fell away from its scabbard with ease but stopped just inches away from sneaking under the Allfather’s armor, his hand thick, heavy, and warm around her wrist.  “Don’t do that, Natasha Romanov.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, eyes burning as she tried to push against him.  She could do this.  She had to.   _For my family and all I’ve lost._

What she got instead was a knife pressed to her throat and a smirking ruler in her face as she was held aloft by what must’ve been magic.  “Sleep.” The man whispered, making Nat’s eyelids feel heavy.  “You’ll be home when you wake up.”  

The last shudder that ripped through her body told her she had a feeling she wouldn’t like it, whatever that home was, wherever it might be that he was taking her.  And why did she have the feeling everything was simply going to get a lot worse?    _Why didn’t you just kill me?_

  



	2. That Which Doesn't Kill Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking back, on one of her more pensive days, Natasha supposed Earth never stood a chance. Ever. Who were they kidding after all? These were gods, immortals, and certainly Natasha and her people had tried, they’d even managed to take fifty or so Asgardians out in the process, but honestly? She exhaled quietly, tipping her head back against the wall behind her. Fifty dead Asgardians in comparison to the fifty thousand dead humans. The numbers had made her knees go weak when she’d heard them murmured from one guard to the next, her mind left alone to wonder just how many of those had been before she’d been captured, and how many after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray another chapter! I hope you like it as much as I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, this prompt is absolutely going to be one of my favorite things. Knock on wood >.> but still. Enjoy!

Looking back, on one of her more pensive days, Natasha supposed Earth never stood a chance.  Ever.  Who were they kidding after all?  These were gods, immortals, and certainly Natasha and her people had tried, they’d even managed to take fifty or so Asgardians out in the process, but honestly?  She exhaled quietly, tipping her head back against the wall behind her.  Fifty dead Asgardians in comparison to the fifty thousand dead humans.  The numbers had made her knees go weak when she’d heard them murmured from one guard to the next, her mind left alone to wonder just how many of those had been before she’d been captured, and how many after.  A lump raised in her throat when she thought of Ivan, Yelena, and everyone else in the Red Room.  Her only family.  Perhaps, if she was lucky, she’d see them in here with her, in her hellhole of a cell.  The walls were all see-through, stronger than glass and reinforced by what she could only imagine was magic.  Nothing got out, nothing got in without the express permission of her jailer, a tall, dark skinned man with eyes the color of chocolate and a face as sour as milk left out for a couple weeks.  He’d been responsible for giving her food, and they’d had many arguments about it, Nat having refused them all.  No.  She knew better than to accept food from some place that used magic, any place but her home, really.  It was dangerous, and it was how people got trapped up with the non-human.  There had been stories of it when she was a child, when her mother had sang her lullabies and read her stories from thick, yellow-paged books before bed.  When her father had sat with them and smiled, running his hands through Natasha’s curly red hair and kissing her forehead before leaving, wishing her a good night.  

She’d tried to let herself starve at first, kicking the food into a corner so that the jailer would see it and scowl, his already heavy brow lowering as he glowered.  She would do her best to conceal her small smirk, but judging by how his hands tightened over the hilt of his spear she was getting to him.  Good, she supposed.  What else was there to do but antagonize the guard, after all?  Her cell was bare, her four simple walls and a white floor.  No bed, nothing but a chamberpot that she’d certainly gotten over the embarrassment of using after the first day, and a threadbare blanket to keep her warm when her thin grey pants and plain grey shirt were not enough; these were her constant companions alongside the guard, and the many others who’d been brought in besides her.  They couldn’t speak to one another; each time Nat had tried, or they had, the magic of their cells prevented the sound from getting out.  Natasha had screamed and screamed her first evening, hoping to annoy the guards enough to provoke them to attack, shut her up, to do something!  Nothing.  Her voice had disappeared a few hours later and the pitying looks of those caged near her was too much to handle.  So she’d withdrawn in on herself, face going blank as she picked a spot on the ground to lean up against the wall and folded her arms over her chest.  When she grew tired she’d slink down onto the floor, but other than that she entertained herself with ways to imagine driving the spear of the guard through Odin’s heart, or better yet his second eye, hear him shout and scream as she took her revenge for all he’d done.  If only.  

 

However long Natasha was in the dungeons was never told to her, and she was doing her best to not lose hope that she’d die forgotten in the damn bottom of the castle.  Starving herself had grown old and she’d started eating again after deciding she might have better luck garnering favor with the guards if she cooperated.  Besides, she couldn’t help but think wonder why she should bother being afraid of being stuck if there were no options for escape.  At least getting the guard to like her was a viable option, a decent idea, and she’d take any and every opportunity possible to escape, even if it meant being stuck on a foreign planet.

The guards changed on very rare occasions, and even more rare the prisoners would be visited by the king and a few of his men themselves.  Along with him, usually, was a tall blond who seemed more antsy than most, his fingers constantly on the move, twitching as he looked around at them, as though itching to be on the move.  To do something other than stand around and talk.  Natasha could sympathize, though she feared what her reactions and reflexes would be like after such an extensive stay in this hellhole.  They never seemed to stick around for long, simply discussing something quick that Natasha couldn't understand and looking at the other prisoners. There must have been more than just the ones near Natasha, if the heavy sigh that deflated the blond man's body was anything to go off of, and she wondered why. What they could possibly be planning that needed so many humans. Her blood ran cold. It wasn't as though their planet needed fixing, as all the fighting had been on earth, and certainly she couldn't see them needing the humans for any sort of communal reasoning. They were a different race after all, too mortal and fragile to be of much use. Already those around her seemed to be changing, growing older, as though time moved differently between worlds.

It might for all she knew.

More than once she garnered more attention than the others, her face remaining as stoic as she could manage as Odin stared at her, speaking wordlessly to the blond man beside him, the pair sometimes accompanied by a very bored man with black hair as well.  Though he dutifully listened along with the other his gaze often wandered, fingers laced behind his back to likely keep himself from getting into mischief with them, forcing himself to stand up as tall as he could.  An uncomfortable position to keep himself from falling asleep.  Nat had done that before, too.  Who were they and what did they want?

One day Odin tapped on the glass, the surface rippling gold as it spread from one side to the next, and a whorl of noise hit her ears so quick it was a miracle she kept from closing her hands over her ears just to deal with the sudden intrusion.  

It took half a minute to realize that they were talking to her, not just in front of her any more.  “What is your name, girl?”

“Why does it matter?”  Her voice was hoarse from disuse, eyes even more distrusting than ever as she stared at all three of them in turn.  The blond looked most intrigued, blue eyes bright as he stared at her, a little taller than she was.  The black haired one stayed in the background, green eyes watching, always watching she’d seen.  Calculating.  He would’ve been the advisor, then.  The wise one.

“Your king asks you a question,” the guard growled from beside Odin, his eyes narrowed and spear pointed at Nat. She tried not to laugh, wondering just what good that would do when it shifted with ease through what she’d thought was solid glass a moment ago, the point of the weapon pressing to Nat’s throat.  

“Enough, Gerald.”  The blond said, loud boom of a voice echoing in Nat’s head.  The spear tip moved away from her, and Nat tried not to smirk.  Heh.  She could get used to getting her way like that more often.  The guard bowed and resumed his position, still and stoic beside Odin, as the blond prince, she could guess, stepped closer.

“Please tell me your name.”

“Natasha,” she said after waiting half a minute to respond.  He’d done her a bit of a favor, she supposed, and so she could return it with such a small gift of her own.  A name.  She’d always thought there was power within a name.  After all, she’d transformed a myriad of times depending on what she called herself.  Natalia, Natasha, Black Widow.  Which was really her, after all?  Which name accounted for who she was, who she could be?  “Natasha Romanov.”  She barely forced out a “sir” at the end, glad he at least found that amusing rather than impertinent.  Well, she assumed he did based on the smile that twisted his lips and the smirk on the man behind him.  She’d take that as a good sign.  

“And what was your profession when you lived on Midgard?”

“On Earth?” She restated, wishing it didn’t sound so stupid.  The man at the back held back a quiet chuckle that made her fists clench.  

“Yes.  Earth.”  The blond man’s smile turned sympathetic and bemused.  Natasha hated it.  She didn’t want or need his sympathy.  Her hands clenched and her eyes narrowed.

“I was a spy, and a fighter.”  And she still would be if it hadn’t been for these bastards in front of her.  Again, she wondered why.  She’d never heard of them taking prisoners before, only that they killed all those in their way who rebelled.  So why had she been spared, but why did this man care?’

“Are you good at it?”

“Good enough to have made it as far as I did and to have survived.”

“And be captured.”  That was Odin speaking.  Nat’s eyes narrowed.  Asshole.  

“But it did take your king in order to capture me,” she reminded them, tipping her head up a little.  She could be proud of that, would be proud of that.  They’d have to pry that victory away from her cold dead fingers to make her stop rubbing it in their faces.  

“You’re quite proud, aren’t you?” Odin asked, his one good eye narrowing as his arms folded over his chest, standing a touch taller than he had before.  He already towered over her and she had to bring her eyes up to meet his one.  

She shrugged it off, not saying anything, preferring that they would react to her.  It was infinitely better to read the body language of another and draw one’s own conclusions rather than betraying any of her own secrets.  No one said anything for some time, allowing Natasha a better look at the trio.  If they’d looked any more similar she’d have assumed the black haired man and the blond were related, at least in some way, but they couldn’t have looked any different, couldn’t have held themselves in a more clearly different way.  The blond exuded confidence, strength.  He looked the part of a warrior that they boasted about within their culture, rippling muscles and bright eyes that could quickly size up an opponent, calloused hands used to fighting their way through a myriad of foes.  The other man looked as though he hadn’t seen a day of battle in his life, likely the one who strategized and called the attacks, then.  And what else could they be doing besides deciding the fates of those in the dungeons, finding a place or else determining a resting ground for those they’d captured?  

“If there’s nothing else you wish to learn then I believe we’d best be going to the next.  There are more to speak with and learn from, Thor.  Loki.” Odin said, his hand clapping the blond on the back.  Natasha watched the second man’s eyes flick over to the show of affection, the slightest trace of longing flitting through his gaze.  

It clicked.  They were brothers, one the favorite and eldest, the second the youngest and doomed to never inherit a thing besides problems that the first didn’t care to deal with.  She could play with that if they ever let her out.  One last look from the blond and Odin’s fingers tapped at the glass once more.  Again the noises of the outside world were filtered out and Natasha was left in the silence of her own company.  With little else to fixate on she watched the two other men turn to talk to another prisoner.  Thor and Loki.  She recognized the names from the stories Ivan had once told her as a child, wanting her to be as prepared for the oncoming attack as possible.  It was how she’d heard of Odin, after all, and she felt like an idiot for not guessing the identity of the two men beforehand.  As though the king would go anywhere without his sons.  

She moved a little closer to the glass, getting the best look at them she could without making it too obvious, seeming as though she was going to lay down beside the glass (her usual resting place, after all.  When she laid down just right it looked as though she wasn’t there at all from a quick glance, leaving her guards to freak out.  That never got old.)  With their identities solidified she took a better look at them, head tipping to the side as she watched Loki’s green eyes flick from Odin to his elder brother, sizing the pair up and what they were saying, and though his face betrayed little of what he felt the subtle flicks of his fingers told volumes.  He didn’t agree, based on how tight his fist was clenched, and when he did he visibly relaxed his grip on his wrist.  She could only attribute the slight quiver that raced through his fingertips to a desire to do something, likely wring his brother or father’s neck if the near imperceptive roll of his eyes was anything to go off of.  How much more interesting he was than his gold-boy brother, and how much more difficult to deceive he would be.  

Nat had always loved a challenge.  

 

A few days must have passed before Natasha received more visitors.  This time it was a woman, dressed in a pair of deep red leggings, a silver, fitted breastplate over a red top, her pitch black hair tied in a high ponytail.  Her eyes were bright and sized Natasha up without saying a word, her arms folded tight over her chest.  Nat sat up from where she’d been laying, blue eyes meeting this warrior woman’s, keeping her gaze as blank as possible.  What on earth could they want now?  

The woman’s fingers tapped gently on the glass and once more Natasha’s cell was filled with noise from the outside world as the magic lifted.  

“You are a warrior?” The woman asked.  Natasha gave a curt nod, watching as the woman walked over to the other side of the cell.  Once more an intricate pattern was dialed on the smooth surface, but this time it allowed the woman to step up and into the cell with Natasha.  She removed a thin bangle from her wrist that Nat hadn’t noticed before and it changed into a thick silver cuff in her hand.  

“Hold out your arm, please,” she murmured.  Not seeing a reason not to Nat complied.  The band fitted itself to her upper arm, tightening until it met resistance so that it stuck in place.  Interesting.  

“What does this do?”

“Keeps you within your boundaries.  From running away.”

“Oh, am I going somewhere?” Natasha asked, failing to keep the sarcasm from her voice.  The woman barely quirked a smile.  

“No wonder Thor likes you.  You’ve got a wit sharp as his brother’s,” the woman murmured.  “Yes.  You are.  For the time you’ll wait in the antechamber.  Don’t try running--this won’t come off and you’ll lose your opportunity if you disobey.”  

An opportunity?  Interesting.  She followed Sif from the cell, the fresh, cold air of the dungeons hitting her hard in the lungs, singing in her veins as her eyes teared of their own accord.  Within the other cells Natasha could see three other figures, two tall and lean, one large and oddly familiar, moving in and out of various cells as well, bringing others with them.  “Do you have a name?” Natasha asked, clearing her throat from its disuse.  

“Sif,” the woman said simply, nodding her head the once before striding off and leaving Natasha alone at the very end of a very large room.  Larger than she’d ever realized.  The cells stretched onwards as far as her eyes could see before disappearing around a bend, and each of its inhabitants were looking hopeful and terrified as they watched their neighbors near and far step out, or else were led out by one of the four Asgardian figures.  Those that were chosen were larger in stature, well muscled and with battle-hardened eyes.  One or two Natasha even recognized from debriefing packets in the Red Room.  Steve Rogers, formerly Captain America, moved slowly towards her, his jaw set as he gazed around the room and practically shaking with energy.  This must’ve been killing him, Natasha thought as she watched him take a place opposite her, bright blue eyes searching the room, looking for the most obvious of routes out.  She kept her distance from him.  If he recognized her he was doing a damn good job of hiding it, but she didn’t want to give him a chance or reason to get a hit on her.  She’d once been told to bomb a building he and his men had still been in, trying to take out the Asgardians.  Her partner at the time had decided that he wasn’t going to leave it up to them to finish the job and had taken matters into his own hand, and Nat wasn’t about to argue, as green as she had been to missions.  

At least he’d made it out okay, if not a little more battle battered than he would’ve been.  

A group of roughly thirty people were assembled in the space between cells, each of them with a similar ensemble that Nat wore and a matching silver band around their wrist.  Aside from Natasha there were perhaps two other women, neither of which looked particularly happy to be there with the rest of them, and when Sif swung back around with the last few people in tow the group was led out.  No one spoke, Natasha allowing herself to fall back into the crowd, though standing out seemed a given.  She was a good head shorter than most, and while their hair varied from blonde to dark black she was the only one with such bright hair.  Damn it all.  At least it allowed her a chance to get a look at the other three that moved with Sif.  With a start she realized why she recognized the portly one, her hands fisting as she recalled his face and jovial, loud laugh from the party where she’d gotten caught.  Her hands tightened into quick fists before relaxing.  She’d strangle his fat throat with her bare hands if given the opportunity.  She truly hoped she got the opportunity.  

But thoughts of revenge were quickly chased from her mind as they were brought outside, of all places.  The sun felt good on her skin after having been stuck beneath the palace for so long, and from the sounds growing closer it seemed as though they were making their way to a training ground of sorts.  Interesting, though it made sense.  What better way to test who was a threat and who wasn’t than by pitting them against one another.  At least she assumed it would be against one another; a human against an Aesir, well.  Her eyes flickered over to where Steve stood.  They might stand a chance, she supposed.  The others?  Doubtful.  Though they had made it this far, she reminded herself.  So perhaps they stood a decent chance.  

The group was stopped just outside a vast arena, large seats raised around a circular, sand and dirt covered center where a pair of men sparred, their shirts cast aside, muscles glistening with sweat and rippling as they grappled with one another, one sporting a shock of blond hair, the other short brown.  Nat thought she’d recognize the blond anywhere and took her time observing Thor’s technique.  He went for the kill with each move he made, holding nothing back as he wrapped his muscled arms around the center of his opponent and flung him to the ground, slamming into him not long after. A shout came from the other man, who wriggled beneath him as Thor gained better purchase of one of his arms and twisted so hard that the pop of the bone coming from its socket could be heard from where they stood.  Many around her winced but Nat’s eyes simply narrowed in confusion.  This was a friendly match and yet they held nothing back?  

The two men called it a match from there, Thor rising with a broad grin and a light in his eyes that came only from a good round as he patted his companion on the back, the brunette wincing a little but offering a kind smile nonetheless.  

“Good bout Balder.  Thank you for that.  Send my brother down, will you?”  

“Of course my prince.”  The man tipped his head forward and disappeared, popping his shoulder easily back into place as he moved.  Now that was skill.  Thor moved aside to allow the group to step inside the arena, an uneasy air falling over them as Thor moved to stand by the four that brought them in, one arm wrapping around Sif in a half hug that she stiffened under.  No love lost there, Natasha supposed, absently wondering what Thor had done to infuriate the woman and whether it would be possible for Nat to draw the woman away from the prince. Once the pleasantries had been exchanged between them all it was Thor who started them all out, unable to stop himself from smiling.  

“You’ve all been selected because you’re all fighters in your own right.  You’ve all done well to prove yourself as warriors, and now we will be providing you with the chance to join us.  All whom do not wish to will not be forced, but the alternative is returning to the cell in which you were brought.  If you wish to relinquish this opportunity please make your intentions known now so that you might escorted back.”

One person did so, a woman who’d been trembling since she’d stepped near the proving grounds.  Another blond man, this one with a rather impressive mustache and a twinkle in his eye Nat recognized from many of her past targets, led her back the way they’d come.  At least they thought he had; there was a soft thud and he returned immediately following, wiping a thin stiletto blade clean of blood.  The air around them tensed.  Thor nodded and Natasha felt her heart speed up.  No room for weakness, she supposed.  Especially not in the mortals.  If they didn’t fit within a specific role she supposed they were expendable, but it begged the question why they were even being given the option.  

“Those of you who have remained will be paired up with one another and have five minutes with which to disarm or disable your opponent in whichever way you consider simplest and most prudent.  No weapons, each man and woman,” here he looked to Natasha, “Is on even ground.”  Again a heavy silence followed his words.  He allowed himself a grin.  “Any volunteers?”

Not a single person raised their hand or said a word, not until Nat stepped forward from where she’d nestled herself in the crowd.  Thor’s grin widened as he recognized her, and she gave a half shouldered shrug.  She felt confident in herself, even as long as it had been since she’d fought, that she’d be fine.  She’d done worse than this before, and frankly if she died in the process well, she deserved it.  

‘Accept nothing less than perfection from yourself Natalia and you’ll never allow yourself to be let down.’  Ivan’s words played in her head as she was brought to one side of the arena, allowed to strip and change into more suitable clothing, a tighter fitting black shirt and pair of training trousers.  Though she had to roll the latter up to her ankles, along with the sleeves of her shirt, she felt confident as she watched her opponent changing.  He was a little older than she was, at least he looked it, and though he was at least twice as wide as she was he moved slowly, as though his bones ached with every movement.  This would be a quick one, she couldn’t help but think to herself.  The others, including Rogers, were shunted out of the arena, forced to listen, as the other Asgardians took their places in the high seats.  Loki had rejoined his brother--Nat could feel his eyes on her as she stretched her calves and arms, muscles waking up after being dormant for so long and burning pleasantly--and once the pair had seated it was Loki who called for the fight to begin, Thor sitting forward eagerly.  

She hardly needed the full five minutes, running forward to make the first move, feigning to the right before slipping down to the ground and flipping his legs from beneath him.  Her reflexes were much better than his, thanks to the serum and how much practice she’d had while on Earth, so even as he went down and threw a foot out to connect with her face she rolled to the side and tossed the sand around them into his eyes.  He shouted, cursing her dirty trick, but his next words were cut off as she scrambled atop him, grasped his head between hands tightly, and twisted.  His body went limp before his hands could get much higher than her mid torso, and she pulled away from him shortly after.  Again silence fell between the onlookers, and when she looked over she saw Thor’s face frozen in a look of shock while Loki simply looked impressed.  He called out the time, a minute and fourteen seconds, and she was led away as the body of her opponent was dragged away.  The precedent was set and she’d love to see anyone else follow it.  

 

She wasn’t allowed to watch Steve fight, but judging by the grunts that came from the other side of the huge wooden walls that surrounded the grounds it was going in his favor.  She very much doubted he would go for the kill as she had, no, he was far too good for that.  Still she couldn’t help but hope he would make it out.  He was strong, stronger than her even though she was certain to be faster than him.  He might even be a match for Thor, or at least put up a good fight.  The idea made her smirk, tipping her head back to rest against the wood, feeling more at ease than she had since she’d been forced here.  The others, most of whom had kept as far away as allowed under careful supervision of the brunette man from before, Balder, kept away from her, having seen that her partner hadn’t returned with her.  She could read the fear in the careful lines on their faces, the way they tensed when they looked to her.  She’d made no friends for taking the kill when she had, but she’d made an impression and that was, simply put, vastly more important.  Besides, if she could get Steve on her side then what did she care about the others?  

There was a cry from the otherside, from Thor it sounded like, and the grunting stopped.  Two figures made their way back from the enclosure, Steve walking fine with his head up as the other man limped, one arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulders.  Natasha watched him carefully.  Why did he bother?  The other man would die anyway, especially now that he was injured.  Why bother with the kindness?  She saw, however, how it changed the faces of those around them, how they looked at the once strong symbol of freedom from oppression, now refusing to give into the stresses of the powers that sought to make them slaves once more.  

He could have his freedom and his dignity for it, she was going to get out of there with her life.  

 

Between the two of them they made short work of the candidates until no more than fifteen, themselves included, were left.  Natasha had just wrapped her thighs tight around the throat of another man, squeezing with all the power she had until he choked, when Thor gave a booming laugh and time was called.  The man fell, limp and still, to the ground.  

“What a way to die,” she overheard Thor say with a grin.  “I wouldn’t mind it.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t.” She could all but hear the eyeroll in Loki’s voice and smirked at that.  As if Thor would ever try to fight her.  He had once or twice made the request to spar with another individual, and it had almost always resulted in their death.  But those had been men, the women all disposed of by Natasha.  Now, however, as she looked up into the stands she saw Thor motion for her to stop, his long legs bringing him swiftly down to her level.  She lowered her eyes as he narrowed, resulting in a quiet hum of a laugh bubbling from his chest.  

“Would you fight me, little one?” He asked, tipping her head up to look at him.  Her throat tightened, nerves that had been once dormant coming to fight against her power of speech.  She’d thought too quickly about the ease through which she’d made it through the training tests.  Now?  She licked her lips quickly, hastening to think up words.  

“If it would please you, my lord, then certainly,” she said, genuflecting with her head bent.  She couldn’t think of another way to respond and perhaps if he saw her as less of a threat, as subservient, then he wouldn’t kill her.  It was the quickest she could think of at least. Once more he lifted her gaze up from the ground and grinned, allowing her to rise as well.  

Loki’s gaze hardened as he watched the two, stiffening where he sat as Natasha and Thor squared off against one another.  They wouldn’t be timed, as all seemed to know better than to interrupt Thor when he got going.  The thought only made Natasha’s heart beat a little harder against her ribs until she was certain the imprint of her bones would be a permanent mark on the organ.  She rubbed her sweating palms on her pants, and when that didn’t help she bent down to the ground to take sand in her hands, coating her sticky hands in the coarse substance.  It was then that Thor made his first move, rushing her and throwing his whole body her way.  She dodged, rolling to the side so that she could come to a stop just behind him, crouched down and watching him turn the lunge into a graceful roll, stopping with his back to her.  She took her shot, closing in and striking with her foot.  Had she been half a second faster it would’ve connected with the back of his head.  As it was his hand shot out and tripped her up, rising to his full height as she found herself flat on her back and gazing up at him.  He held fast to her foot but as he scrambled to grab her other he left himself open for her heel to drive into his nose, cracking it satisfactorily, coating her appendage with blood.  He snarled, grabbing her leg and pressing them hard together, pressing them forward as he came to lean over her, the pressure so much that Nat felt she might be flattened beneath him.  Her face contorted in pain for half a minute before she managed to reach up and grab a hold of his hair, yanking him as hard as she could.  His grip faltered for the briefest of moments, allowing her to roll backwards.  

She hadn’t been prepared for Thor to tackle her the minute she’d landed on her haunches, toppling her back over.  She’d trained with larger men before, though, and managed to relax her body so that the momentum forced them to roll not just the once but twice, firmly cementing her atop him.  She scrambled to wrap her legs on either side of his torso, pinning his arms to his side, but she hadn’t anticipated him to mimic her own signature move and bring his legs up to wrap around her own front, pulling her so far back that she shouted in pain.  Her back was going to break if he didn’t let her go!  He waited until she relented first, her legs going limp around him and allowing him to lay her back down beneath him as he hovered over her, the blood flow of his nose already stemmed as the bone healed itself nearly instantly.  

There was an opportunity there she didn’t think twice about before exploiting.  As he loomed over her, one arm pressing hard against her windpipe, she wrapped her legs once more around his hips but rather than squeeze, as she was sure he expected, she ground her pelvis against his.  Hard.  A groan of surprise passed his lips and her own curved into a sultry smirk, one eyebrow rising suggestively.  His gaze changed, mutating from something that once resembled a warrior’s concentration to one deeply mired in lust.  He pressed a little harder on her larynx and she gave the quietest of moans, tipping her head to the side, exposing her neck to him.  If that wasn’t submissive enough for him, well, she didn’t know what was. Her body always had been her greatest weapon, and as she flicked her gaze back towards the god, who’d pressed himself just as hard against her now, she saw with great relief that her bet had paid off.  He’d just lowered his mouth to nip hungrily at her throat when there came a throat being cleared from the stands.  Natasha allowed a blush to stain her cheeks, as though she’d truly been caught out of sorts by Thor’s actions, and the god above her gave a low growl of disapproval as he looked over at the dissenter.  Loki looked caught between disbelief and disgust at the change in their behavior.  

“Shall I mark that down as a loss for Romanov?” He asked dryly.  Based on the way Thor’s arm had moved to clutch at her hip and the erection pressed hard against her center, Nat would count it as a victory.  No way in hell would he get rid of her now.  

 

Of them all, thirteen made the final cut, Steve among them.  He’d taken two lives himself, only after having been backed into a corner, and if the weight sagging his shoulders down was any indication he wasn’t proud of what he’d resorted to doing.  Natasha, for one, couldn’t understand why.  It was about living.  Getting to see the next day, and getting the hell out of that cell.  They were all given rooms and basic belongings with the intention that they would fill the gaps left by the dead Aesir lost on Midgard.  Natasha wasn’t about to complain, glad to sleep on a real bed for a change rather than the hard floor her back had hated her for.  Steve’s room had been positioned just across from hers, and their eyes met on more than one occasion as they settled themselves in.  

“Good fighting today,” Natasha offered.  An olive branch between them, she saw it.  He nodded and murmured a similar sentiment before disappearing.  She tried not to think of it as the rejection his expression made it out to be.  He could disagree all he wanted with what she’d done, but it had gotten her where she’d needed to be.  Ivan couldn’t have asked for anything more from his best operative, and besides the better graces she stayed in the easier she would be able to locate a weak spot within the realm of the gods.  It was only a matter of time before it presented itself.  

 


	3. Leave The Soul Alone

Their training began the day after that, each of the survivors divided into sparring partners and put into a rotation along with the other trainees for the Asgardian army.  Not for the first, or last, time did Nat find herself constantly put up against foes bigger and stronger than yer, yet more susceptible to speed than any others.  Only Steve seemed to match her on all levels; even some of the Aesir couldn’t match her pace.  The only level Steve had a problem with was that, when it came down to it, to the last breath Nat would ever take, he hesitated.  It was slight and subtle, nothing more than a shift in his arms around her, but it was just enough for her to exploit.  He’d end up on his back half a second later, gasping as she pinned him down with a knee to his throat, a certain rage in her eye promising that if it came down to it she wouldn’t mess around.  

Pity was all she got back and she snarled in indignation.  Why did he pity her?  She’d won!  Whatever the reason she never stuck around long enough to find out, scampering off of him to allow him to get back to his feet.  They’d switch partners, going along with the rotation, and from the corner of her eye she’d see him repeat the same thing with the next opponent, taking them down until the very last moment, when it counted most, then letting up.  She wasn’t the only one who noticed, and when a trainer came over to talk about it and pit him against a guard she thought that was going to be the end to the one they had once called a super soldier.  Too bad.  He would’ve made a half decent companion, if not a semblance of a friend.  

All the other fights stopped as the combatants spread widely enough to allow the pair ample room to fight, murmuring softly to one another about what was happening.  The guard was slow moving but huge, burlier than Steve and with a mean look in his eye, one that didn’t bode well with Nat’s hopes that her fellow soldier would somehow come out on top of all of this.  Both were asked to relieve themselves of their weapons, though it was only the guard who was carrying one, his sword clanging heavily as he threw it to the side, followed by Steve, to his credit, didn’t look phased at all at the man’s size or strength, and when Fandral, who was judging the match, ordered for it to begin he waited until the larger guard made the first move.  A wise decision, as the brute charged forward, trying to take Steve down quickly, his bare hands colliding with Steve’s stomach.  The soldier simply moved with the blows, letting the majority of the energy and force deflect off of them, wearing the man down as he dodged and shifted, moving backwards to force the assailant forward.  When the guard wound his arm back, preparing to sink it into Steve’s face, the soldier swiped the man’s feet out from beneath them and stomped on the challenger’s kneecap, effectively shattering it.  Natasha winced, eyes wide as she watched the guard shriek in pain.  He still tried to get up, tried to grab at Steve’s near feet, but the soldier just kicked his hands away.  It was what the guard had been waiting for as he pulled out a dagger and swung it down hard into Steve’s foot, nailing it to the ground.  Steve snarled in pain and lashed out with his other foot, kicking the man’s head so hard his neck snapped before he fell to his other knee and ripped the dagger out of his foot.  He swore under his breath, a plethora of curses Nat might’ve blushed to hear if she was of the delicate sort, and a pair of other guards rushed to his side.  

“Good work, Rogers,” Fandral called after surveying the unmoving body, which was dragged off to be taken care of.  The soldier said nothing, limping away after pushing the other guards off of him, on his way to the medical tent set up just outside.  A precaution Nat hadn’t thought they’d ever need, but she supposed it was better than him having to trek all the way back up to the palace.  The others were set back into rotation, Steve joining them a few minutes after that, as though nothing had happened.  

 

“Rogers.  Hey, Rogers!”  Nat yelled after the retreating pair of hunched over shoulders, reaching one of her hands up to grab him.  He flinched away, as though she’d burnt him, and when he turned she was surprised to see--guilt?  Seriously?  “Nice work today.”

“I shouldn’t have killed him.”

Was he serious?  “He’d have killed you--you saw that knife.  He wasn’t supposed to have a weapon.”

“Doesn’t matter.  I let my anger get the better of me.”

“Steve, he deserved it.  Bastard shouldn’t have cheated.  You’re lucky to be walking at all, let alone still able to fight,” she countered.  They’d just made it inside and she pushed him hard against a wall, forcing him to look at her.  Again all she got was guilt, not even the slightest rise from her aggression.  It made her grit her teeth.  She’d never dealt with someone like this before, and though she wanted to fall back on her Red Room training, to wait for him to slip up and just keep pushing him until he did, something told her it wasn’t going to work.  Why the hell not, though?  “Steve.  C’mon.”

“Why do you care?” He asked, brow furrowed as he looked down at her.  

“Because you’re the only one out here like me.  A super soldier.  You think I could’ve taken you down or even lasted this long without being one?” She asked.  Honestly, the signs were so obvious it was painful, at least to her.  “Because you and I should at least stick together a little bit.”

“Says the spy who doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Says the other Midgardian looking for an ally.”

He didn't respond to that other than giving a quiet sigh and looking away. "An ally for what? We're not getting out of here any time soon. How can we?"

"Doesn't mean I couldn't use someone to have my back, or that you won't need one. We're training, yes, but this place is so competitive it wouldnt surprise me if there's going to be one or more tests like what you just went through. Fight or die. Now don't you want a friend if it comes to that, or at least someone who isn't going to turn on you?"

"How can I be so sure you won't?" He asked, blue eyes boring into hers. At least he wasn't as stupid as she'd thought previously.

She just smiled. "Little old me? We both know you could take me out if it came to it, Rogers. The only reason you haven't is because you don't like to, and I respect that. I wish I'd had the choice growing up to be that compassionate."

"You're not answering my question," he said, ignoring her fake modesty as he stepped closer to her. She knew her face was slowly slipping into its normal mask, it's own defense mechanism against those who would attack her, and she did her best to keep it from happening. "How can I trust you?"

"I never said you could," she finally murmured, pretending his intimidation got to her as she looked down from him, fidgeting. When she looked back up there was a certainty in her face that she knew took him aback. "But better the devil you know that the one you don't."

   

They spent most every evening talking, the pair taking their dinner to either her or his room--mostly his--in order to go over who they thought was their greatest competition, who they needed to look out for, both Aesir and human, and who wasn’t going to last very long.  Where Nat was an excellent judge of stamina and fighting ability, Steve had the human heart figured out to a tee, and he was getting quite good at doing the same with the Aesir.  Save Loki.  Though the god spent little time near the training grounds there was the occasional evening he’d come to watch them practice, green eyes taking everything in but saying very little.  He never engaged with them as Thor or Fandral liked to when they were getting bored, but seemed to catalogue everything he saw.  Nat envied the man for it; Steve thought he was more dangerous than anyone they’d ever met.  

“He’s second in line, there’s no possible way he could be a threat to anything,” Natasha murmured.  

“He’s still the son of a king and that gives him power.  Not to mention he has Thor’s attention about anything and everything.  I wouldn’t put it past him to pick favorites and ensure that those favorites receive everything, while the others get screwed over.  You said this was a competition?  I agree, but he’s the ultimate judge.”  Steve took a deep drink of his mead, the honeyed draft little more than a flavored beverage to either of them despite how strong it must’ve been brewed.  

“So in other words we get on his good side,” Natasha reiterated.  That shouldn’t be too difficult, she thought.  She hoped.  It was always hard to tell; the man was so stoic whenever she saw him, only betraying the slightest hints of emotion when Thor had his attention or else to make fun of one of the other combatants.  But he was a man, and if there was one thing Yelena had taught her it was that every man, regardless of everything else that society labeled them as, what they thought of themselves, of how their lives had been constructed, had a weakness, a kink.  Something she could exploit.  She thought she knew Loki’s, could read his yearning for acceptance in what she’d seen of him earlier.  Could play him like no other if she had to.  But for Steve?  The corner of her lips quirked upwards in a half smile.  That would be a whole other battle, one she supposed they’d get to if she even came close to cracking Loki’s shell.  

   

Natasha didn’t even think it  _could_  rain on Asgard; the weather had been nothing but sun for the past few weeks that they’d been there training, but when the skies had opened up and let out a torrential rain that gave way to a more calm shower she wondered what the day would bring.  

More training, as it turned out.  Apparently the Asgardians were huge fans of the weather change, and though Thor wasn’t there to watch everything turn out Loki was there in his place, eyes flicking from combatant to combatant, head tipping to the side every so often as a bubble around him kept him from getting completely soaked.  She didn’t have long to contemplate his presence, already paying for the lack of attention with a blow to the gut that had her doubled over.  In the rain, however, her skin was much more slick and made it difficult for her oppoment to get a good hold on her wrist as he tried twisting her around.  She slithered out of his hold and brought her foot high up enough to kick him in the face, then went for an immediate second attack, driving her knee into his gut as penance for what he did.  When he doubled over she grabbed his hair to hold his head and her knee knocked into his nose, cracking it and covering him in blood as he fell to the ground, sputtering and coughing, the rain unable to wash all the blood from his face.  She planted a foot on his chest, holding him there until he told her he yielded, and only then did she allow him to stand and walk towards the medic’s tent to get his nose checked out along with the few teeth he was now missing.  Whoops.  

Partnerless, Nat simply watched the other combatants go at it, watched Steve throw a man over his shoulder as easily as if he were a feather pillow, the heavy thud of the opponent dropping enough to shake her heart. She allowed herself a smirk.  Good.  He was coming out of his good-boy shell a bit more, becoming more savage the more time he spent training with the rest of them.  It wouldn’t be long until he was as powerful as Thor, likely powerful and strong enough to secure him a permanent position wherever it was that they were looking for.  It still bothered her that she had no idea what they were even training them for.  She was pulled from those thoughts, however, by the feeling of eyes on her back.  When she turned she met Loki’s gaze evenly, neither of them willing to look away first until Nat cast her eyes downwards.  She hated subservience, but something about the way he was looking at her was too familiar for her not to take advantage of.  

Sure enough, when she’d brought her gaze back up, the corners of his lips had pulled up.  Well, that would be easy enough to play to.  

Something else caught her eye, though.  Eager to make a good impression, she made her way slowly towards Sif, the warrioress looking bored out of her mind as she folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips, failing miserably in hiding her boredom.  

“My lady,” Natasha tried quietly, getting the woman’s attention to snap towards her.  Nat allowed herself a small smile.  “I noticed that you always keep a sword on yourself at all points of the day.  I’ve never used one before and I was wondering, well if you wouldn’t mind teaching me.”

“There are guards to teach you how to use the different weapons.”  The woman said at first, calling Natasha on her flattery.  “Bother them with your inquiries.”

“There’s a difference in learning from men who know the weapon than learning from a woman who’s paved her way with the weapon, who forced the world to see her as an equal. I want to learn from that woman earned her respect, not a man who was given it from birth.”

The warrioress paused, her eyes blown wide in surprise at Natasha’s words.  Nat was confident that no one had ever presented it to her like that before, to admire how Sif had risen in the ranks of what would be considered a man’s job and made a name of herself in the process.  It wasn’t hard to feign respect for the woman, not knowing what she’d done, and it only colored her words with truth rather than false honesty and sycophantic nothings.  

The goddess allowed herself a small smile.  “You are a flatterer, aren’t you?”

“Only when that flattery is laced with the truth, my lady.  We all have those we admire,.”  Nat smiled back.  “And I admire what you can do and the name you’ve made for yourself when none would see you as anything other than a woman.”  

   

Natasha was given a sword of her own for Sif to show her how to hold, the blade a little longer than her forearm, a wicked thing with a curved middle that tapered into a point, runes that meant nothing engraved at the very bottom of it.  She didn’t bother asking Sif what it meant, though she was taken aback by the goddess’s lack of nerves about giving a rookie a sharp, lethal weapon.  She must have trusted Nat a great deal, or else her own fighting abilities.  Either way Natasha wasn’t about to complain.  She’d hated being babied in the Red Room and would’ve hated it all the more now.  After a quick rundown of how to hold the sword, and adjusting Natasha’s grip more than once, they went into the basics of technique and form, Sif careful to demonstrate and correct as she saw fit, smiling when Natasha proved to be a quick learner.  It wasn’t long before the two were engaging in slowed down combat, the harsh clash of metal on metal second only to the cries of the goddess instructing Natasha how to move, how to maneuver herself to either defend or attack.  Nat felt the eyes of the other trainees on them and felt herself glowing a little more with the attention.  Though on Earth she had been eager to avoid it, on Asgard it seemed the only way she’d get anywhere would be to get everyone looking at her, focusing on her, and watching her prove all their small-minded theories of her weakness wrong.  Sif fed off of Natasha’s determination, grinning as they began to fight faster and faster until Nat’s body began to shake.  In her weakness she was easily disarmed, and though Nat wasn’t sure how well it would go over she charged the goddess, avoiding the tip of her sword to knock it out of the warrior’s hand and tackle her to the slick, muddy ground.  

If Sif was good with a sword then she was an expert at hand to hand, giving Natasha a run for her money.  After they’d both righted themselves Nat had lashed out first, attempting to drive her fist into Sif’s left shoulder, thinking the force of it would be enough to force her to open up her right side to another attack.  The goddess let the blow roll off of her, weaving with the movement to drive her elbow into Natasha’s side, twisting with ease to the side so she could kick at the back of Natasha’s knees.  After falling onto the abused joints, Nat kicked one leg back, catching Sif off guard to swipe Sif’s legs out from under her.  Nat rose to wait for her opponent to regain her footing, breathing heavily as she wiped mud from near her mouth.  Sif didn’t disappoint, standing quickly and striking Natasha in the face.  Nat retaliated, feeling the blood rushing into her face from where she’d been struck, mixing with the dirt already accumulated, though the goddess managed to block it with her arm before grabbing Nat’s arm and twisting her around, pulling her hard enough to make Nat cry out in pain as her elbow overextended itself.  What the goddess wasn’t expecting, though, was Natasha to reach back, wrap her fingers around the woman’s slick wrist, and hoist her over her body in a very similar move to Steve’s, grateful she’d been able to get a good enough purchase on her skin despite the rain water they were both covered in.  She’d been paying enough attention and though it hurt like a bitch on her already sore and inflamed muscles the resounding thud of Sif hitting the ground was enough for her.  

Thankfully so because the woman didn’t take kindly to being thrown, knocking Nat down a moment later onto her front before scrambling behind her and taking both arms in hand, twisting them harder than before.  Nat bucked her hips, pressing her already aching knees into the ground to try and gain some leverage, and though she managed to flip Sif onto her back with Nat on top it wasn’t near enough to make her let go.  Only when Nat had wrapped two legs around one of Sif’s own and squeezed hard enough to make Sif shout did another order overcome them.  

“Enough.”  The voice was quiet but commanding.  The two women went lax within the instant, Nat rolling off of Sif to cough and collapse into the mud they’d been fighting on.  Ow.   _Ow_.  A pair of large hands came over to help her up to her feet, Steve at her side with wide eyes asking if she was okay.  She nodded and smiled over at Sif.  The goddess, too, was trembling and returned Natasha’s smile.  

“Not bad for a human,” she teased, and Natasha extended a hand first.  

“You’re a damn good teacher,” she complimented, again finding truth in her own words.  She’d never found a fight to be that difficult and yet stimulating at the same time, not even when she took on Rogers.  And to say that she’d managed to take down Sif, even if it was for a little bit?  She could read the glowing pride in the Asgardian’s eyes, the interest in those around hers, and she didn’t need Steve to lean down and tell her that Loki had been watching the whole time to catch the intrigue in his gaze when she looked over to him.  Good.  

They were released for the day after that, Steve helping Nat make her way over to the medical tent to get the Asgardian equivalent to an ice pack for her muscles and a potion to take the edge of the pain off, before Nat excused herself from his side.  She’d seen Loki standing in the lists still, eyeing the ground as though looking for something different than what she could see.  

“I’ll catch up with you after dinner,” she murmured to Steve as she started hobbling over towards the black haired god.  Steve followed her line of sight and muttered for her to be careful before going back into the castle.  The rain had let up while they were in the tent, now a light misting, as Nat made her way slowly towards Loki.  

“Find anything interesting, my lord?” She asked, addressing him in a way she hoped wasn’t offensive.  He took his time looking up at her, giving her a small smile when he did.  

“Prince.”

“Excuse me?” She asked, feigning confusion.

“I’m not a lord, and you are far too intelligent to make that mistake, Madam Romanov,” he said.  His voice barely carried over a low murmur but still it sent shivers racing up her spine that had nothing to do with the chilly rain.

“Oh, apologies then my prince.  I was simply wondering what the dirt was doing that held your attention, if it isn’t too much to ask about.”  She chanced a half smile, trying to seem apologetic.  The smirk that curved his lips told her he wasn’t completely buying it.  

“Were you?”

“Yes.”  She allowed herself a small smile.  “You looked fascinated, though I apologize if my curiosity offends you.”

“You, apologize?  I don’t think you’ve sincerely apologized for a thing in your life Madam Romanov,” he said, turning to face her completely.  His hands bent just behind his back as he surveyed her, still smirking and she felt herself smile as well.   

Her body relaxed a little as she stared up at him.  “Onto me already, are you?  Most everyone else seems ready to believe me.”

“Do I strike you as everyone else?” He asked, tipping his head to the side as one of his eyebrows rose.  Natasha laughed and shook her head.  

“Not at all.  You’re vastly too intelligent to be taken in by my simple tricks, though I’d expect nothing less from a trickster.”  Her voice lightened a little, turned a little more breathy.  Trickster he may be, but judging by the way his Adam’s apple jumped at the change in her voice she’d been right in her assumptions that he was a man, first and foremost, a trickster second, and a god third.  Fortunately, she knew how to play the first two, and the last she’d simply learn as she went along.  “So, how do you think of me, my prince?”

He held his silence and his ground for a moment before he began to pace around her.  Natasha didn’t move, catching his gaze when he came back into range, and straightening up as best she could under his gaze, sure he’d appreciate the way her breasts stood out a little further as she pulled her shoulders back.  When he spoke she could hear the ever-so slight hitch in his breath.  

“I think that for a mortal you’re one of the most interesting ones I’ve yet to meet.  You’ve been trained well enough in combat to merit attention from my brother and the Lady Sif, even had the gall enough to take her on in a fight and hold your own against her.  That shows me that you’re proud and confident.  Anyone who wasn’t would never have dreamed.  It also proves to me that you’re good with your tongue.”

“Am I?” she smirked, eyes hooded as she looked up at him.  

His own expression mirrored hers.  “Yes.  You have to be in order to trick Sif into breaking character and showing you how to duel.  She guards her secrets with her life and has taken out men and women alike in the defense of them.  Which only leads me to wonder just what you said to her.”

“Nothing but the truth,” Natasha fired.  At least she was honest there, too.

“Then your truth must have been great enough, especially coming from such an accomplished liar like yourself.”

“How am I a liar?” She laughed.  This was fun, more fun than she’d had in days.  If the flash in Loki’s eye meant anything, then she would’ve bet everything she had it meant he was enjoying this, too.  

“You’re lying to yourself right now, thinking that you can play mind games with me, that you’re smart enough to take me on, to interrogate me in your own way to try and gain the upper hand.”  He stopped in front of her, tipping her chin up until it was nearing uncomfortable and she had to blink rapidly to keep the water from getting into her eyes.  Now it was her turn to find breathing difficult as he crowded her, warm body mere centimeters from hers.  She could feel her heartbeat growing faster and let her cheeks flush and her lips part as he stared down at her.  Before her own eyes his pupils dilated and his mouth neared hers, resting a scant inch away.  

“You can’t fool me, Natasha, or try and learn something from me I don’t want you to learn.  Better men and women than you have tried and failed.”

“Who says I’m looking to learn something?  Maybe I’m just interested,” she purred.  His hand moved from her chin to cup the side of her face, thumb tracing her bottom lip.  

“Then good luck trying to keep up with me.”  Without so much as a warning she felt his hand leave her face, letting her head fall as he turned on his heel to walk away.  She couldn’t so much as get a word out before he disappeared from view, literally vanishing into thin air and leaving her skin burning and too tight feeling with nothing but the chilly rain to try and cool her down.  As she looked over at what he’d originally been staring at she found that there was nothing particularly momentous about it, nothing interesting or remotely out of the ordinary.  Just mud with the imprints of her and Sif’s shoes.  

He’d meant for her to walk over, to ask what he was doing, had read her and anticipated her actions before she could even make a decision.  If she wasn’t careful, she thought as she walked away, rubbing her face with her hand to try and make the heat in her cheeks disappear, she had a nasty feeling she was going to play right into his schemes.  Well, she’d never been one to back down from a challenge before.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray, finally some Loki and Nat interaction! Hope the wait was worth it. Also, thank you all a million for all the comments and sweet reviews; I'm thrilled you all are enjoying this as much as I'm loving writing it! They really help the writing process and keep me motivated to get as much of this written before November as possible, so thank you all again from the bottom of my heart. Ya'll rock


	4. Said There'd Be No Going Back

“My lady Romanov.”  

Natasha was certain she’d recognize that voice anywhere, and so smiled when she turned to face Thor, dipping her head a little in respect, a slow smile turning her lips upwards.  

“My prince.  How can I help you?” She’d since learned her place here, the weeks having trickling by until she’d tallied up her whole stay as a little over a few months.  Hard to believe, she thought, that she’d spent so much time here, training, fighting, she and Steve constantly going over different techniques and methods of getting ahead of the competition.  Three more of their group had since died, leaving it at an even ten, and there was an eager, almost edgy air that often surrounded them in the training grounds.  

“Please, just call me Thor.  Will you take a walk with me?”

As though she had a choice.  She’d learned from then that when a royal asked you to do something you did it, whether or not you wanted it.  It had been how Jacob had died not a week ago; Loki had asked the man to move out of his way, and rather than simply step to the side the imbecile tried to show just how tough he was, shouldering the black haired man as he’d walked past.  Without warning the prince had knocked him to the ground and split him open without having to lift a finger, staring down disdainfully as the idiot had bled out beneath him.  No one had said a word.  

“Of course I will,” Nat smiled as she turned to step alongside him, her hands clasped in front of her, doing her best to look the perfect picture of harmless.  As it was one of the few evenings he had off from training she’d been expected to dress like the rest of the ladies and had donned one of the few dresses she owned. It was well made, the fabric a strange metallic hue that was not quite bronze or gold, with a metal bustier that not only could protect her should a fight break out but that pushed up her breasts to her advantage.  She wasn’t about to let that go to waste, not when Thor was in such a position of power to give her a leg up in the world.  She was glad to see her efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed; his eyes kept bouncing from her chest to her face, unabashed when she caught him sneaking a peek as they walked.

Wisely, of course, he chose not to say a word about it.  “You are holding yourself well in the fights,” he commented on instead, smiling down at her.  It lit up his whole face, eyes bright and constantly moving, as ceaseless as the winds it was said he could conjure and control.  

She allowed herself a smile as well, dipping her head in false modesty.  “Thank you, my prince. I--.”

“Thor.”

“Thor,” she corrected with an embarrassed chuckle.  “I fought on Midgard but the company I’m training with here is much more intimidating.  I’m just glad I’ve been able to keep up.”

“Keep up?” He laughed, the noise crashing through the tall hall they walked through.  “You obliterate any you see as competition.  It is an admirable quality.  I heard about your and Sif’s sparring session the other day and am sad that I missed it.”

“She was just teaching me how to wield a sword.  She’s unrivaled in her expertise and I thought I could take advantage of it,” Natasha admitted, faking humility as though her life depended on it.  Which, it might one day, and wasn’t that a sobering thought?  

“And then you tackled her.”

“It wasn’t my finest moment,” Nat admitted with a chuckle.  False.  It was something she’d grinned over for the rest of the day in private; she’d gotten the goddess to show her hand, show her expertise as she attempted to put Natasha in her place.  All in good fun, of course, but the knowledge was invaluable, and while she had gotten her ass all but handed to her on a silver platter the bruises and soreness that had lasted for a little over a week, despite all the salves and balms that Natasha had been offered, had been well worth it to observe the woman fight and to discover her technique first hand.  “You’ve been gone for awhile though, my prince, and missed quite a bit.”

“Thor.  And, yes.”  He waved it away, obviously not in the mood to be reminded.  “Matters of the kingdom.  I’d much rather be here rolling around in the mud, wrestling and getting some action.”  

She shot him a quick look, one of her eyebrows rising as she laughed.  He was as subtle as the thunder and lightning that was his namesake, but his smile was filled with nothing but charisma and confidence.  It was attractive in its own way, the icing on the cake.  Most men she tried to seduce were, well, more like his friend Volstagg.  She allowed one of her hips to brush up against him as she walked, listening hard for the same intake of breath that his brother had let out when Nat had talked to him.  As if the two hadn’t been different enough to begin with.  Again, her lessons with Yelena didn’t seem so useless, and Thor stopped her with a hand on her wrist to turn her around and back her up against the wall, one of his hands stopping just beside her head, all but pinning her there.  She gave him a coy smile, staring up through her lashes as he bent down a little closer.  

“Would you care to take a tumble with me some time, my lady?”

The way he worded it made it impossible for the laugh to keep from slipping through her lips, though he was taking it as more of a knee jerk reaction than an insult thankfully.  She could never tell with men and their egos, and she’d rather not get on his bad side and then have to fuck her way out of it; it simply made for too much work.  

“Is this your way of flirting, Thor?  Because I must say you’ve got subtlety figured out,” she teased, tipping her chin up towards him as she arched her back slightly.  As hoped his eyes flicked down for a half a second and subconsciously his tongue slid over his bottom lip, before they turned back up to her, riddled with lust.  

“Are you suggesting I’m coming on too strongly, Natasha?” He asked, and she felt her breath catch in her throat purely out of surprise.  The world around her shrunk for the briefest of moments as the heat of his breath met her throat, staining her cheeks red as a result.   _Get it together, Romanov._

“Maybe you’re not coming on strong enough,” she murmured, voice deepening as her lips curled upwards into a wider smile.  His own were brought closer, centimeters from touching hers, her stomach doing some sort of strange flop that she wasn’t familiar with and--.

“Thor--there you are.”  

He pulled away in a half a heartbeat, Nat composing herself in the same time, though the flush that had risen around her chest and throat wasn’t going away anytime soon.  Normally she could count on her catsuit to hide it, but with such a revealing dress it was all but advertized.  Sif was smirking as she looked at the two, arms crossed over her chest as she looked from one to the other, eyeing how Thor tried to adjust himself to make it look as though they hadn’t been caught doing something.  

“Lady Sif, a pleasure to see you as always,” he said, attempting bravado as he ran a hand through his hair.  Nat kept the smirk from her face as best as possible, her eyes meeting Sif’s amused ones.  Good, no stepped on toes there.  Though she was prepared to deal with it if it arose, jealousy wasn’t something she wanted to deal with so early in her time on Asgard.  With Thor distracted Nat managed to slip out from where he’d put his arm against the wall, excusing herself to her room.  Let him think her embarrassed and try to prove to her that he wasn’t just looking for a quick fuck.  Even if he was, well she couldn’t imagine it’d be a bad time in any sense of the word.  

_“Your biggest weapon is between your legs, Natasha.  Promise them the world, hold them tight, then slit their throat in their sleep; cripple them and walk away.”_

Yelena would excell in a world where they seemed to value sex as much as fighting.  More than once Nat had seen the wenches that served ale at the tavern, having followed some of the other recruits for a supposed night off.  More like a hazing ceremony crafted by an oversized bear in a wig (she’d never get over the fact that he’d tricked her) and the all-too woman savvy Fandral.  The women at the nearby ale house had worn large trinkets glittering with the gems that would’ve fed her family for at least three years back on Midgard.  Many times that evening Fandral had lamented losing a great deal of money and objects after a tumble with them and Nat had watched in confusion and abject horror as one of the other men had offered a pretty brunette all the money he’d saved up from their time spent training and she’d laughed in his face.  

As she closed the door of her room behind her, back pressed to the wood and a ragged breath of air leaving her lips her mind turned to what had happened.  Almost happened.  What did it mean if he was already coming onto her like that, if he was already pursuing her?  She liked to think it was nothing more than a passing fancy, and immediately her mind started working, trying to figure out how she could use it to her best advantage.  How she could even use it to Steve’s.  She owed the soldier a thing or two; he’d shown her a couple of the moves that had worked so well against Sif after all.  

Knuckles rapping against her door broke her out of her stupor, making her jump as she turned to look at the door.  Who the hell was calling on her then?  Steve?  Composing herself with ease, she breathed in slowly and let it out at the same speed before smiling and opening the door.  Standing in front of her was Loki, the prince smiling down at her, green eyes flashing down her still flushed throat and chest before meeting her eyes.  

Perhaps he and Thor weren’t so different after all.  

She allowed herself to visibly relax in front of him, dropping into a quick half bow and curtsy mix that they were fond of, her right hand crossing over her chest.  “My prince,” she murmured, rising just as slowly as she looked up at him.  “How might I help you?”

“I wondered if you had plans this evening or if you would wish to spend the time with me?”  He asked, hands folded, wrist to wrist, behind his back.  She allowed herself a moment to appraise him, more than incredibly appreciative of the way the leather folded itself to his skin, before looking back up.  

“I would enjoy that greatly, my prince.  Thank you,” she said.  

“Excellent.  Meet me in the great hall after dinner?”

She dipped her head in acknowledgement and after they exchanged formalities, and he asked her to wear pants instead of a dress, he turned and stepped away, a certain different jaunt in his step.  

 _Shit._   

    

“Sounds like you’re in a bit of a mess,” Steve murmured from where he sat at his desk, staring at Natasha, who’d reclined on his bed, shoving one of his pillows over her head.  She’d never had to do this before, never thought she’d have to worry about juggling the attention of two men--two very important, powerful men at that, men who could control her fate if she so much as staggered out of control.  From under the pillow she let out a low groan.  He wasn’t helping the situation at all (not that she’d expected him to but still it would’ve been nice.  Too bad he had the dating experience of a three year old.)  

She hadn’t expected the evening to go well with Loki.  Not at all.  She’d thought him to be cold, calculating and entirely needing of validation.  The latter turned out to be the only part true, and she was all too good at telling men how good they were even when they didn’t deserve it, though Loki did.  He gave her a quick tour of the sprawling city that surrounded the palace, leading her from the business district to the outskirts of the city, the pair sharing small bits of their childhood as they enjoyed the crisp, almost fall-like air of the evening.  She’d done her best to pump him of information, but to her surprise he was as accomplished as she was at finding information out himself.  She told him of her reacclimation at the hands of Ivan and those in the Red Room, he told her about training with Thor and growing up as the second brother, the literal dark sheep.  She told him of her losing Alexei and the Super Soldier serum she’d been given, he provided her with the stories of his fallout with a young girl he’d fancied by the name of Sigyn and his run in with Svadilfari.  She’d shuddered at that story and in return he’d wrapped an arm slowly around her shoulders.  

It wasn’t supposed to give her butterflies in her stomach or make her mind go blank for the quickest of moments.  

“It’s nothing but an infatuation, right?” She asked the pillow, hoping but not really caring if Steve could understand her.  Even voicing it felt like a failure.  

“I can’t really say,” Steve murmured.  “When’s the last time you felt that way?”

Earlier that day with his brother.  “Years ago,” she grumbled, preferring to think of Alexei instead.  

“What happened to him?”

“He died.  Aesir attack in St. Petersburg,” she turned away.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”  She’d already said too much to the prince they were discussing; she trusted Steve but he didn’t need to hear her stories.  There was a silence that hung uncomfortably between them, leading her to sigh quietly.  

“If I was home my foster father would tell me I was being an idiot,” she admitted, closing her eyes.  She could practically hear Ivan berating her for letting her think with her emotions rather than her logic.  She could see why; it only confused things to listen to the heart, or whatever was making her feel this way.  She’d not even known them for half a year, there was no reason for this!  It only made her groan louder and bury her head in the pillow.  

Footsteps padded towards her and a large hand rubbed her back gently.  She tensed under his attentions but it was short lived as he worked out the tension in her muscles.  

“You ever just think of letting go?  We’re going to be here for awhile, no point in reminiscing.”

He didn’t understand.  His past, from what she could guess and read on his face every time he brought it up, only brought pain and longing, years of regret stacking high on his shoulders.  It was no surprise that he’d want to forget.  For Nat the past brought comfort.  Strength.  It was invaluable, especially then when she could use it the most.  She shook her head, still burying it in the pillow.  It was peaceful there, soft and smelling of clean linen.  

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, you pick one of them and the other makes your life hell for a little while before they move on?” Steve asked, sounding skeptical.  He, at least, didn’t have to worry about it, though Nat had seen Sif giving him more than one sideways glance.  He would do well if he’d just turn on the charm when he talked to her, but she might as well have asked him to grow a second head.  Steve Rogers was as awkward as it got around just about every other woman they met.  Nat, for whatever reason, didn’t count, and she couldn’t have been happier.  At least he only had to worry about one woman.  

Her head popped up so quickly that she nearly knocked into Steve’s chin, the soldier moving away just in time.  

“What?” He asked, looking confused.  

“I don’t see why I should have to pick at all,” she murmured, her resolve settling as she considered it.  “Why pick one prince when I have both?  I’ve been looking at it all wrong--it’s not an obstacle, it’s a blessing.”  Her mind practically bounced in her head, taking over what few flutters her stomach had tried getting away with, Nat’s head leveling as it started to formulate plans.  

“You’re going to date them both?” Steve asked, sounding half impressed and half skeptical.  

“Who said a thing about dating?  Flirting, Steve.  It’ll get you anywhere,” she said, looking over to him and flashing him her most enticing smile.  Heh.  What did she know?  He could blush when it was Natasha’s attention that had turned on him.  

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

“No, I’m going to get anything and everything I could ever need to stay alive,” she assured him.  “And I’m going to make sure you get the same.”

“And your emotions?” Steve asked, concern pushing the corners of his eyes down.

“I don’t have any room for emotion.”  

 

There were whispers being shot around as the ten final humans were led from where they’d met in the entrance hall to the outdoors, stepping single filed through the back door and into an expansive garden.  If Natasha thought what she’d seen on Earth was gorgeous it was nothing in comparison to the rolling waves of flowers and bushes, hedges leading out to what looked like a maze, stone statues looking as though they’d spring up and off their pedestals even as water spouted from mouths and fingertips into bowls and ponds.  In the very center, where they were all being led, stood a huge tree, bark white and leaves nearly as green as Loki’s eyes.  The god stood near the large tree, one hand reverently placed on its bark, eyes catching Nat’s as he offered her a sly smile.  What the hell did he have planned?  

Thor was leading the excursion, and he couldn’t look any prouder, chest puffed out and the wide smile never leaving his face.  

“You ten have proven yourself to be more than capable warriors, strong, and worthy of a place in Valhalla when Ragnarok comes to reap that which is owed it of the world.”  He started, beaming as though he’d offered them the greatest compliment words could afford.  Nat tried not to smirk as the references were lost on many who stood near her, Steve included, but Thor pressed on.  “Since the war with your people we have been training you to replace those whom have fallen in battle, those soldiers brave enough to call themselves part of the guard and warriors that defend Asgard and its people.  Today, we extend those open positions to you lucky few, you strong individuals.”  One of his large hands extended to pluck an exquisite gold apple from the tree and eyed it for a moment before tossing it into the group.  Natasha, who stood near the front, caught it and offered him a quick smile, eyes showing her thanks.  He returned it with a widening of his grin, so much so that she was sure his cheeks ached.  

“The apples of Idun.  Long have they been guarded by magic and enchantments to keep other mortals from contaminating and consuming them, as they offer the secret to our immortality and strength.  One of these is offered to each of you.  Eat it and you will have the strength of our warriors, the power of those that dwell in Asgard.”  He took another and tossed it to Steve, though he didn’t have eyes for anyone else but Natasha.  “Eat it and join us.”  

She didn’t have to be told twice.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, seems like such a short chapter, but I'm quite proud of it. Hope you enjoyed it--and thanks so much for all the comments, kudos, etc. It all makes the writing so much easier! Thanks again!


	5. You Don't Know How to Tell

Steve’s eyes met hers as they were both poised to take a bite.  He looked nervous, but knew better than to refuse the gift given to them.  Hasn’t they seen the result of insubordination and refusal to comply?  Nat gave the smallest of shrugs before biting into the shimmering flesh of the fruit within her hand.  The juice ran hot down her face, as though she were eating from the heart of Asgard itself, and the pulp felt heavy on her tongue, sweeter than their mead, but just as filling.  Each of them grew quiet as they set to finishing the fruit, urged on by the smiles of the Asgardians who surrounded them.  Loki met Nats’ eyes for a moment before he was distracted by another’s conversation, Fandral engaging him in a question that was just out of Natasha’s range of hearing.  

Her gaze turned instead to Thor, whose eyes had hardly left her.  He grinned widely when she wiped the corner of her mouth free from juice and slowly sucked it from her finger.  His own tongue raced over his bottom lip, almost subconscious, before she turned away from him, casting her eyes to the ground.  Let him think her embarrassed by how forward he was; it would only make everything else easier she thought with a certain smile.  With the son of the king on her side who would dare deny her anything?  Quickly, her eyes moved back to Loki, taking advantage of his distraction to size him up.  She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could platantly out smart him.  Even if she hadn’t seen his supposed silvertongue at work, the rumors of his intellect knew few boundaries and only made her more self-conscious of what she did and said around him.  

Thankfully he often seemed to see this as a sign of her attraction, and it wasn’t as though that was a complete lie; though they were entire opposites both sons of Odin were handsome in their own individual ways, Thor bright as the lightning he called to him and Loki smooth and swift as the shadows he weaved in the minds of his opponents.  She couldn’t have picked two harder targets, and if Ivan would’ve been there with her he would’ve congratulated her on setting her sights so high and then demanded she surprise him with her competence.  

As though keying into her thoughts and attention Loki’s eyes sought hers out, expression setting into one of bemusement, especially when she flushed and turned away to finish her apple.  It wasn’t until then that she realized the oh-so subtle shift  in the world around her, as though gravity had just altered.  She felt lighter, quicker in pace and mind, and already her head filled with theories as to how it was that the apple had accomplished it.  

And how she could get one back to Ivan.  If he’d though the soldier serum they used on her was a find then this was, without a doubt, gold.  

Her fingers twitched at her sides, eager to test the newfound strength that charged her body with electricity, as though Thor had struck her on the spot.  The very flavor of the apple changed in her mouth, she noticed, more honeyed and heavenly, a taste she’d yet to find a name for outside of perfect.  With a quick--much too quick to be human--she flicked her head to watch Steve.  He was gazing at the apple if expecting it might burst into a song and dance, wonder and amazement rampant in his eyes.  She leaned over and nudged him.  When he turned she couldn’t help but grin.  

“We made it,” she whispered, though it sounded normal to her ears.  She grinned in turn and nodded, clapping her on the back.  He’d never done that before, and she could practically feel the attention they were starting to garner.  In the back of her still speeding mind she couldn’t help but wonder if the playing fields were leveled with the apples, or if their serum would still give them an advantage.  Even if it didn’t, she learn how to make an advantage of the situation herself.  

“Congratulations and welcome to Asgard,” Loki’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, carrying incredibly well through the small group and making Nat’s knees weaken ever so slightly.  Oh, good.  Even those reactions were amplified.  She tried not to let the tremor show but judging by the flash of amusement in his eye he’d caught it.  Damn.  Oh well; it would only make the end game that much easier to accomplish, she supposed.  

He carried on without missing a beat, the picture of collected calm.  “You will be assigned new quarters within the palace still, and taken your place among the palace guards’ ranks, a high honor.  Should your actions continue to be meritorious then you may rise further.  Your previous ranks as humans, Midgardians, are forgotten.  From now on you are as much Aesir as the rest of us, and as such Asgard will always be your home.”  Here his eyes stopped for a brief moment on Nat’s own.  A chill shot down her like a bolt at the look.  

How the hell did he know?  

She kept her face as impassive as possible, just watching him as he watched her.  Thor broke the moment by giving a loud cheer, echoed by the other Aesir who’d walked with them, and the newly appointed members of the palace guard, and newest Aesir, were brought into the feasting rooms.  Food had already been laid out for them across the spacious tables, the benches pulled out and large mugs filled near the brim with mead.  Others that they’d trained with had gathered as well, and as they walked Natasha sought out Sif.  

“Good to see you again, my lady,” Natasha said with the slightest dip of her head.  The warrioress grinned.

“And you.  How is your sword fighting?”

“Improving with thanks to what you taught me,” Nat said with a smile, accepting a mug of mead as was offered to her by a servant.  She paused for half a second, fingers nearly weakening and dropping it.  The man in front of her had had the cell before her in the dungeons, and though he recognized it as well he kept his head down.  Was this what happened to those who were unable to fight?  She’d tried not to think about it, avoided returning to the dungeons like the plague for fear of what she’d find, but this she couldn’t exactly run away from.  

Sif, having noticed her reaction, put a hand to her shoulder.  “It’s better than death.  A servant’s life isn’t what you might think it is.”

“It’s still being forced to submit to the will of others,” Natasha murmured, and perhaps her words came out too darkly if the subtle change in Sif’s expression was anything to judge by.  Her eyes were narrowed, curious, as her head tipped slightly to the side.  

“Memories from Midgard?”

She could say that.  It was what would have happened to Midgard--likely what did happen to Midgard, now that Natasha considered it, while she’d been training.  Her heart dropped and she felt the color drain from her face.  Her home, her work with the Red Room.  Ivan, Yelena, everything that she and Alexei had fought so hard to protect.  She ignored Sif’s questions, the goddess frowning as she questioned whether or not Nat was alright, and after a quick, murmured excuse she pressed the flagon of mead into Sif’s hands and walked swiftly down the hall.  

It wasn’t until she got to her room that she realized that it was no longer her own.  Head spinning with the whirl of emotion and what could only be described as vertigo she forced herself to take a seat against the wall, her back sliding all the way down until she hit the floor, trying to breathe evenly.  Failing.  

That was how Loki found her not ten minutes later, his brow creased as he strode towards her, the sound of his boots against the floor giving him away.  She managed to look up before turning away, forcing herself to her feet by the time he got there.  

“My lady, what is wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly, not meeting his gaze so he wouldn’t see her red eyes and how pale her cheeks had become.  She was ashamed of it, of how strongly the realization had hit her, but most of all how long it had taken her to realize it and how very little she could do about it.  She hadn’t felt so helpless since she was a child, an odd notion to consider seeing as she was supposed to feel powerful and self-assured.  

All she had was shame, and as before it was the Asgardians that were to blame for it.  

She would mull that over later, though, turning her attention instead to Loki, the god still trying to figure out what was wrong with her.  He’d placed his hand cautiously on her shoulder.  “--You were white as a ghost and we’d all wondered what had happened.”

“I simply wasn’t feeling good, it is nothing now,” she said with the smallest of smiles as she forced herself to compose her face and look back at him.  Plastered a smile on her face.  “I likely just became ill.”

He frowned.  “But that is impossible.  You cannot be, now that you are Aesir.”

“And so that prevents any residual damage?” She asked, feigning a chuckle.

Whatever his reaction might’ve been she hadn’t expected it to be a small, understanding smile.  She’d not expected her alibi to work but--.

“You have the same look as Thor does when he’s telling me a lie.”

Oh.  Her eyes swept the ground as she folded her hands in front of her, picking at the nails.  A nasty habit she’d once been rid of in the--.  Years ago.  Thinking about it was even too painful.  “I’ve made a great mess of today, haven’t I?  Honored and given a place in the guard then caught in a lie to my prince.  I’m sorry.”  She bowed her head, but he caught her before more than a second had passed.  Her eyes looked up into his green ones, confused.  What was he doing?

“Don’t be.  You miss your home.  I could see it when I was speaking at the ceremony.”

The truth of it made her throat close with longing, longing to beat him, strike out and scream at him for taking her away, for attacking her home.  How dare they consider themselves royalty when they attacked and plundered and razed cities to the ground simply because they wanted to?

And because they could, and they could because they were Aesir, a race she was now part of.  She felt the bile rise in her stomach.  Before she could excuse herself, Loki stepped even closer and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest.  He was pleasantly, surprisingly, cool against her, even through their clothing, and one of his hands found her hair and started stroking it.  The tenderness of the moment, and familiarity of the affection as one that her mother had done for her once upon a time, brought tears back to her eyes.  She slammed one hand against his chest, hardly making him wince, as she began to sob, her body shaking with the hard sobs leaving her lips.  

“I’m sorry,” Loki murmured in her ear, pressing his lips to her temple as she cried harder into the fabric of his green tunic, chest muffling the noise and body shielding her from anyone else seeing who might’ve stepped down the hall.  In the back of her mind she was thankful for that, sure she’d never let herself live it down if she displayed this weakness to anyone else.  Hell, it was eating away at her pride that Loki was even seeing it, but maybe . . .

She pulled her head together and looked up at him, tears still clouding her vision as they stood there, paused, before he started to lower his head.  His mouth had just brushed against hers, an apology and request for permission leaving his lips at the same time, before a voice came from down the hall.  Steve.  He’d come to look for her, and though Nat’s cheeks colored with a combination of fake and honest embarrassment, she couldn’t help but be grateful.  

She was losing herself, slowly but surely, to this place, and it needed to end lest she lose her edge.  She murmured an apology to Loki before asking him where their new rooms were.  Though he offered to guide her there it was with Steve’s supervision, the American worried for his friend as he watched how Loki’s attention never left her except to stare, rather intently at Steve, as though sizing an enemy up.  

That she could work with.  

She wished them both a good night, her eyes promising Steve she’d visit him later, before he was led off by the prince.  The latter seemed to be under the impression that if he couldn’t have her attention then no one should, and Natasha found she didn’t mind it.  She needed time alone with her thoughts, to plan and prepare.  It would be hours before Steve would be able to pull away (and given the way he’d stared at Sif earlier that day, she wasn’t sure he’d really want to) and she could use that time far more wisely by herself than in the middle of the drunken Asgardians, nearly all of which she’d like to put a dagger through their heart.  

All of them.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how short this is, but I wanted at least one more update before November. As I said before, I'll be taking a break from writing my fanfics in order to work on my novel and hopefully hit the 50k word mark of NaNoWriMo! Thanks so much for understanding and I hope you at least liked the update!


	6. Rate Yourself and Rake Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter involves almost rape. If this is a trigger I'd recommend skipping the first half. 
> 
> Also: remember when I said I wasn't going to write anything during November while I was working on NaNo? Seem familiar to when I said I wasn't going to start anything new before November? HAH. My brain is a brat. 
> 
> I dunno when the next chance I'll get to update is, as I'm mostly using Fic as a way to relax after bashing my brains out for my novel, but hey! It's an update right?!
> 
> Enjoy and thanks for reading!

The new training sessions were harder than they had ever been before.  With their lessons being taken over by the head of the palace guard, a broad but surprisingly light-footed man named Ulfir, they were all given advanced, new training in weaponry and warfare, alternate fighting techniques and defensive strategies.  More than once Natasha found herself wishing for the familiar weight and kick of her guns especially after getting knocked on her ass, the guards no longer taking it easier on them since they could more than hold their own.  She was right in thinking that the soldier serum had given her and Steve an edge, though, albeit a slight one where their speed was concerned.  As fast as Ulfir, or Sif, or even Loki were, Nat and Steve had the slightest of advantages.  Granted, since the one time she’d found out in a foot race, which had started in good fun and ended in a less than friendly finish of Steve coming in first a half second before Natasha, they didn’t showcase it again.  

“Too dangerous,” Steve had agreed with Nat when she’d brought it up.  “Yeah, I think so too.  Better not to bring up too much attention.”

If only it had been that easy.  Jealousy, as she’d been afraid, burned even brighter in the Aesir than most humans.  

 

Nat strode down one of the lesser traversed hallways, her hands still going through the spear and shield motions Sif had been teaching, when a hand reached out for her shoulder, turning her quickly around.  The man in front of her sneered, his frame towering.  

“Look at this pretty Midgardian wench,” he drawled, dark amber eyes alight as he looked her slowly up and down, a friend of his coming up from behind to stand, arms crossed and expression unreadable, just behind.  Her body relaxed even as every instinct told her to punch him and run.  She could.  She should.  She would get into trouble, though.  They weren’t supposed to get into fights anywhere but within the training ring, and she needed to keep as solid of a reputation as she possibly could.   “You think you’re really something special, don’t you?  Why don’t you show me what makes you better than the other wenches if you’re so sure of yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, voice quiet and monotonous.  “Let me go.  Please.”

His large hand took her by the chin and squeezed.  If she’d been human it would’ve bruised her.  As it was it just pissed her off.  “Oh come on now, don’t play that way.”

Don’t play that way?  He really thought a cheesy one-liner would really get her to suddenly agree with him?  Her teeth clenched together, forcing herself to breathe deep, trying to remember what Sif had said about blocking using a shield, about which arteries and parts on armor would be best to strike with a spear--.

Her took her silence as compliance and reached one large hand around to take a handful of her ass.  She drove her fist so hard into his nose it more than cracked the bone, it shattered it.  Blood gushed down her hand, hot and sticky, making him splutter as he shouted and threw her backwards into the wall.  Her back hit and the air was forced from her lungs with a soft “oof” while the rest of the world spun, turning topsy-turvy for a short while.  It was all he needed.  Wiping his nose in a hurry the guard advanced, hand still wet with blood digging into Nat’s hair as he dragged her by the scalp down to the ground, making her shout.  From there his friend took hold of her, yanking her arms hard above her head, twisting them till she feared they might snap.  She kicked out at the first one’s knees, thinking to sink the blow and break the bone, but between the two they managed to shift her weight to the side so when he brought his foot down hard it was on her left calf, crushing the bone beneath his boot.  She barely bit back a whimper, unable to help herself, and lashed out just as he was getting down onto her level.  

The hands of his partner held her wrists tight above her head and pressed to the ground, while the other man ripped at the laces of her trousers, trying to hike her pants down far enough that he could slip between her legs.  He made the mistake of leaning forward, and Nat crashed her skull against his, giving it everything she had.  In hindsight she thought she might need to start wearing a helmet like Sif did, something to protect herself and give her a little more of a kick, as her head spun from the sheer force behind the hit.  To her great luck, however, so did his, allowing her to wriggle away from his friend and scoot backwards as the second guard looked on with concern at the first.  Idiot.  Without her left leg, though, she couldn’t run, couldn’t flee, and the first man was shaking his head a lot less now before he finally snarled at his friend to hold her down again.  She brought her other leg out to strike him in the chest, and he simply broke her kneecap.  

This time Nat did scream, the noise ripped from her throat and slashing at the empty air before a hand was shoved over her lips.  

“Shut up or I’ll be forced to wreck your pretty little face,” her first attacked threatened, blood still heedlessly pouring down from his nose, spattering all over her front as well as his, as his empty hands ripped at the fabric of her training shift, breasts bared to them both.  Tears began in her eyes, not just from the pain of the two crippling blows he’d given her but the sheer disbelief of it all.  She’d joined the Red Room to never feel so helpless, to fight back, yet there she was, pants shredded, fingers clawing at the grip that kept her captive as she struggled to buck her way out of his hold, trying to throw her head into his hand to force him to let her go, but his next blow sank hard into her jaw, nearly shattering it when she tried to scream again.

“I told you to shut up, now you’ll--.”

What she would do, however, was never made apparent, the blade of a longsword suddenly poking through the man’s rib cage.  There was a shout from the man holding her wrists as he stood swiftly and took off running down the hall, his footsteps echoing in Natasha’s brain.  Coward.  The man atop her blinked furiously, staring down at the wound, before he rolled over to the side once the sword was pulled out of him.  Behind where he’d knelt stood Thor, his face drawn in such a fury Nat had never thought possible, gaze murderous as he glowered at the direction of the man who’d fled, then the corpse of the man in front of him.  

“And may he rot in Hel,” he muttered darkly, wiping the blood from his sword on the cloak of the unmoving guard before sheathing it and dropping to Natasha’s side.  His distraction had offered her a perfect window of time to cover herself, as she suspected he knew, though every movement burned, wildfire in her veins and bones.  

“Where does it hurt, Natasha?” He asked, all anger disappearing from his visage as his brow furrowed instead with concern.  

“He--he broke my legs.  That one,” she barely whispered, looking over at the dead figure. The ache and strain in her jaw brought furious tears to her eyes that she tried to blink away without any luck.  Thor carefully leaned over to touch the already bruising flesh of her jaw with light fingertips.  Even those made Nat wince, however, and Thor stood to rip the red cape from his back, offering it to her to cover up.  Only when he’d turned away to allow her the illusion of dignity and respect, when she’d covered herself back up, did he hoist her into his arms with care, striding down the hall to the healing rooms.  

“Why didn’t you fight back?” He murmured.  

“I did,” she said, hot indignation coloring her face as she glowered up at him.  He was honestly going to sit there and tell her she hadn’t given it everything she had?  “There were two of them and one of me.  My legs were broken, my arms held above my head as he ripped my shirt and pants.  What would you have done, Thor?”

The blond man’s jaw clenched, eyes all rage and practically sparking with the lightning he commanded when he looked down at her.  

“I’d have killed them with my bare hands.  Still would.”

“You already got one,” she muttered, turning away from him under the pretense of wanting to rest her jaw.  She didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes, though, the spark that flared just beneath all the fire and lightning that was the eldest prince.  She didn’t want to think of how worse he’d view her if she’d gotten herself raped.  If he hadn’t been there to stop it.  

Again, the feeling of weakness, helplessness, wafted over her, a thick miasma cloud dulling her self worth and senses until she was pushing back tears of indignation at how pathetic the situation had made her.  

She’d train harder.  Longer.  Be faster than anyone else.  More than that, she would never be in this position again.  

 

It didn’t take long for everyone else to find out what had happened to Natasha’s dismay.  Steve had come bursting into the infirmary as soon as he’d heard the news, murder written in the lines on his face, the clench of his jaw and an unusual strain of fear blossoming just beneath the surface.  

“Did they catch the second guy?” He’d asked as soon as Nat felt good enough to talk about it.  She shook her head, one shoulder pulled up in a shrug.  

“No idea.  No one tells me anything.  Think it’ll upset me, I’m guessing.”  As though she hadn’t lived it, hadn’t almost gone through it herself.  As though she was porcelain, too fragile to break the news to or to talk to.  It didn’t matter that she was in the guard anymore, that she’d gotten there of her own damn merit.  They’d only ever see her as the girl who almost got raped, whose privacy was violated by a pair of men.  

It would take her decades to try and earn her reputation back, and for that alone she wished the bastard the most painful of deaths.  If there was any justice within the worlds, Hela would treat him to a little punishment of her own.  The gorier the better as far as Nat was concerned.  

Loki was her next visitor, and he was far more muted than Steve was.  His eyes roved over her still bruised body, and from beside her he picked up a small wash cloth, the water cooling under his touch as he pressed it to her forehead, dabbing at the sweat there.  

“You don’t have to do that,” Nat murmured, staring up at him, brow knitting in her confusion.  She’d never pegged him as a sort of caregiver.  

“Yes I do,” he murmured.  “I should’ve kept a closer watch on the guards.  Should’ve ordered father to.”

“There was nothing you can do, Loki.  Your guilt won’t take it back, it’ll only prolong how long the wound stays open,” Nat said, and perhaps she was more irritable than she meant to be because the prince stopped his care a moment later.  She sighed.  “I can’t get the reputation I had before back.  Can’t be looked at as an equal.  If two men can get the better of me why should I even be in the guard?”  There was the crux of it, she felt.  The open wound that she feared would never scab and heal over.  A reputation kept her alive in the Red Room and outside of it, and it had gotten her this far in Asgard.  Now?  Now she had nothing.  

“You were outnumbered.  You had no weapons.”

“Neither did they.  I should have run.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She wet her lips, looking down.  She’d gotten quite good at crafting different truths around him, having been on the receiving end more than once of his disbelieving stare when he’d caught her in a lie.  “I didn’t know if I’d be able to stop once I started.”  

“This is your home now,” he reminded her with a quiet sigh.  

“A home where I’m nearly raped,” she returned his tone, licking her dry lips and turning her head away.  She didn’t want to talk anymore.  

 

The next day, the second guard was found, strung up by his innards over the very spot Natasha had been attacked at, his skin flayed off his back, hands removed, and eyes gouged out from their sockets.  From what some onlookers had said, the small red-headed guard had done it herself, exacting revenge on the one who’d wronged her, nevermind the state of her legs.  Not a single one of the other Asgardians objected, and his body was left perhaps a little longer than it should’ve been hanging from the ceiling.

 

She had to spend an entire week in the white and gold walled infirmary, waiting for her bones to set properly before the healers, dressed in rich purple robes of the healers, could crush the healing stones over them and begin the process of getting her back to her full strength.  If she’d been human, they’d been sure to tell her, she might never have regained the ability to walk away.  As it was there would only be minimal damage to the cartilage.  All of this was told to her with a smile, as though she should’ve been grateful.  She’d never wanted to run a sword through a regular civilian so badly in her life before, and her fingers twitched at her side as she envisioned ramming the blade through the blue eye of the lead healer.  Asshole.  If she hadn’t been Aesir she wouldn’t have been in this position, and he had no right to tell her otherwise.  

Bedrest had been the worst, though.  Seemingly neverending days loomed ahead of her, filled with potions to help with the pain (she ignored them) and food that was as tasteless as that of the hospitals back on Earth (which she ate grudgingly.)  From the open windows across the room she could hear the clatter of swords against one another and against shields, of grunts and cries of pain and success intermingling.  Her heart ached, and secretly she was glad to be so far away so she didn’t have to look at the other warriors practicing, couldn’t give them a chance to see her like this, so weak and pathetic on the bed.  

What would Ivan had said?  She often wondered that, filling the silence with the words of her foster father.  He’d have been furious, more with her than the other men though if anything like this had happened in the Red Room the culprit would have been castrated then forced to live a life without a prick.  Or, at least that’s what she liked to tell herself in between ideas of just how her foster father would yell at her.  He’d say she’d let her head get too large, her ego and self assurity a crutch rather than a weapon.  She needed to fix that.  He’d argue that if she wanted to be the very best she’d have to work harder than ever before.  She’d prove she could.  There was no doubt in her mind that he’d remind her she’d lost sight of her endgame, of her goal.  

She’d find it again and return to her tasks stronger than ever.  There was no other option.  

So when Thor visited her the next day she put on her best, appreciative smile for him, forced herself to sit up a little even as he told her to relax and pulled up a seat beside her.  “There’s no need to trouble yourself or hurt yourself for my sake,” he told her, reaching out to grasp her shoulder gently.  She leaned into his touch, smile growing a little more appreciative.  

“I’m fine.  Really.  More than anything I’m just grateful, Thor.  If it hadn’t been for you.”  She swallowed hard.  “I don’t want to think about it.  I owe you a lot for what you did.”

He shook it away, running his free hand through his hair to push it back from his eyes.  He scooted the chair a little closer, taking in stride how her body language shifted to accommodate his, how she drew a little closer to him as though whatever pain she might’ve been in couldn’t have stopped her.  “You do not need to thank me.  It should never have happened in the first place.  Father was furious when he heard and the bodies of the two men have not been afforded the funeral rites for their deplorable actions.”  

Nat’s eyebrows rose.  Oh.  

“There may have been some heckling from Loki and myself to ensure it so, but it is no less than they deserve.  In fact, it’s too good for them, even.”  His voice here turned into a growl, grip tightening on Nat’s shoulder.  She gently pried it off and wrapped her smaller hand around it, threaded her fingers through it.  

“It’s over,” she murmured, wondering how it was that he got more worked up than she had.  

He nodded, adam’s apple bobbing as he watched her brush her lips against the back of his hand.  Too forward, she reminded herself, and immediately backed off.  Not that she minded.  If she never saw another man between her legs again, well, it wouldn’t have hurt her feelings.  

But she wasn’t about to forfeit her greatest weapon.  

“Sorry,” she allowed herself to murmur, grip on Thor’s hand going lax.  “I just.  I’m really grateful, and I--.”

“No, Natasha.”  He shook his head wildly, eyes boring into hers as his hand moved to cup the side of her cheek tenderly.  His smile was so heartfelt it almost hurt to look at it, but she forced herself to keep his gaze, even as her eyes welled up with easily manifested tears.  “Never feel like you owe me anything.”  His voice echoed in her ears and chest, a deep rumble as intimate as she’d ever heard.  “Truly.”  

“But I--.”

“Enough.”  The finality in his voice nearly made her jump, heart leaping into her throat.  He looked immediately regretful.  “Enough talk of what is owed.  I do not wish you to ever feel indebted to me.  I only did what was right, Natasha.  There is nothing shameful about accepting help.”  

‘To allow yourself to be indebted to someone else, to owe them something?  There is no greater shame.  You give them power over you.  They control you from then on, and you are forever lost as an equal.  Pay your debts or kill your debtors, there’s no other option.’  

She made herself smile, leaning into his large hand, drawing comfort from the heat and electricity that seemed to crackle just beneath his skin, and he was content to sit like that with her until he was called away, Fandral at the door.  The Allfather had requested his presence, and though it was easy to see that he didn’t want to leave he stood and pressed his lips to hers.  

“Rest easy Natasha.  I am looking forward to seeing you rejoin us on the field soon,” he told her with a smile.  “You’ll prove yourself superior to all others once more, I have no doubt.”  

He was damn right she would, she thought as she watched him make to leave.  Another idea caught her and just before he left she called out.  

“Tell your brother I’m sorry, can you?” She asked, abashed.  “I was shorter with him than I should’ve been when I talked to him last and I’m afraid I offended him.”  

For once it wasn’t a lie.  An angry or hurt Loki was not something she wanted to deal with.  

Thor’s face turned conflicted for the briefest of moments.  He really needed to learn how to keep a better cap on it, she thought, before forcing herself to smile as he confirmed he would.  She was left alone once more after that, Ivan’s words of strategy and demands still ringing in her ears.  

 

Loki snuck into her room that night, his figure silent as he moved to sit on the opposite side his brother had inhabited, fully aware that she wasn’t as restful as her figure looked to be.  

“You’ll have to try a great deal harder than that,” he teased, voice light, as she opened her eyes and looked over.  He looked paler than ever with just the moon for a light, and his deep green eyes never left her face as she let herself smile.  

“Thor talked to you, then?  I’m sorry if I offended you--.”

“You didn’t,” he assured her, reaching out to lay his hand over her wrist.  “Forget it.  How are you?”

She arched a brow, looking down at her still prone body, bandages barely hidden under the crisp white linen they insisted on placing over her so she wouldn’t catch a chill.  As if.  His quiet laugh echoed in her head and chest, forcing herself to laugh as the infectious sound filled the air between them.  

“For once I seem to be playing quite the fool,” he admitted with a sigh of amusement.  “How strange it is.”

“Now you know how the rest of us feel in comparison to you,” Nat offered, a smile hitching up the left corner of her lips.  She watched his gaze fly to it, then settle further on where her hand had moved to cover his.  She squeezed it gently.  

“You all worry too much,” she said.  Not that she minded; better for them to worry than her to have to work harder to make them worry.  Maybe she was looking at the situation, however disgusting it made her feel, once more the wrong way.  Perspective.  

“You’ve given me cause to worry if our last talk was anything to go by,” he reminded her.  

That she had.  At least he remembered well enough.  Maybe too well; she’d have to be more careful from then on.  The pair settled into a comfortable silence, neither of them needing to say a word, Loki’s hand still on Nat’s, her grip still loose enough.  

“How are you feeling, truly?” Loki asked just as Natasha felt her lids beginning to droop a little.  Oh.  Were they going to be honest with one another?  She knew his reputation, knew his ability to lie better than any other human or Asgardian ever thought possible, but now he asked for the truth?  

Did she even know it?  

She opted to chew on the inside of her cheek as she searched herself for the answer.  “I feel like I don’t know who I can trust here,” she admitted, eyes fluttering downwards to where their hands met.  He squeezed once more.  “I’m not sure what to expect from anyone.  Who can I look to if I’m getting attacked at every corner?”  

What scared her most wasn’t the quiet intake of breath or the murmured oath that Loki wouldn’t allow her to come to harm like that again, or even the adamant desire in his eyes to see her safe.  It was the truth behind what she’d said that gave her chills, so deeply rooted in her chest that even she couldn’t suss out where it had come from.  More than that, though, was his ability to pull it from her, to get her to open up.  

No one but Alexei had ever gotten her to do that, and even then they’d been a brief flame in too dark a world to handle.  

“That’s a neat trick you’ve got there,” Natasha said quietly as she sat up and leaned towards the bedside table, reaching for the silver jug of water and cup.  Without missing a beat Loki poured her some and handed it over.  She made sure her fingertips brushed his when she accepted it, taking the minute confusion on his face as a cue.  “Getting me to open up.  I thought you were the god of lies.”  Here she turned coy, smiling into her cup.  

Again he let out that quiet chuckle, the soft, bouncing laugh that never failed to lift her spirits, damn him for it.  She was sure it’d gotten him out of many a problem in the past, hardly able to imagine someone that would say no to it.  

“Maybe there is someone you trust, then,” he said, voice and eyes soft as he accepted the cup once more, this time filling it with magic as the pitcher levitated to fill her cup.  Hands free, he reached out to her and took one hand between two of his own.  “Natasha, I haven’t stopped thinking about what happened after the ceremony of the apples and I would--.”

“Loki, your cup is overflowing,” Nat asiad, bemused as he hastened to stop the magic, catching the cup in his hand and sloshing a good half of it down his front.  The pitcher, meanwhile, tumbled and broke on the ground, nowhere near as strong as it looked.  Cursing, he offered her the cup before pulling up part of his tunic to try it.  Even with the faint light from the window she could see the definition of his stomach, taut with muscle she wouldn’t have expected, though it was enough to make even her mouth run a little dry.  

Judging by the subtle smirk shifting over his lips he knew it, too.  Ass.  She ripped her eyes from him, swallowing water and trying to focus on the chill of it rather than the man beside her.  She’d just have to find a way of getting back at him.  

 


	7. Love, Hunt Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As if writing 6k words for NaNo wasn't enough, I present to you my next chapter in Breathe. 
> 
> Cue the feels. 
> 
> WARNING: Slight spoiler-y feels about this one? I stole a line or two (or five) and an idea from Thor 2, but it's nothing that wasn't revealed in the released Marvel snippets. Just a warning, though.

It took far too long for her to finish healing as far as she was concerned, and by the time the healers cleared her to leave her legs were once more strong enough to support her weight.  Thor was there for her, Loki having been called away to practice his magic and fortify the defenses around the city, but the blond brought Sif along with him.  The former was grinning broadly while Sif’s expression was more sobering, worry and anxiety pulling her brow down.  Natasha appreciated the realism, wanting to thank her for being so level-headed.  There was only so much optimism of Thor’s that she could take before wanting to go insane, though for his sake she smiled brightly back up at him.  

“It’ll be back on the field and beating you in no time my prince,”  she teased as she stepped towards him.  One leg gave out and she pitched forward, over exaggerating it so she landed against his chest.  One of his arms wrapped around her waist, large and steadying, and he smiled down at her flushed face.  Well that was easy.  

“Perhaps not so much,” he teased, helping her to stand tall again.  Bless him for being so simple and so good hearted. Once more she couldn’t have been more thankful that Sif didn’t get jealous, the woman’s expression turning to that of pure bemusement.  Nat shot her a quick, faked grin, as though embarrassed of herself, and the dark-haired woman just shook her head slowly.  

“You are sure that you are fit to walk?” Thor asked with concern weighing heavily on his shoulders. Nat wondered how often he’d seen warriors and fighters hurt themselves from getting up too quickly.  She was determined not to be added to that list.  

“Of course I am.”  She patted his bicep with a small smile.  Really, he worried too much.  

As Nat went through the last of the protocol for getting out of the infirmary Thor grew antsy enough for Sif to send him away.  “Just meet us for supper you oaf,” she said with the roll of her eyes.  Thor frowned but nodded.  

“If I am bothering you of course I will.”  

Nat opened her mouth, trying to tell him he wasn’t though he if he started drumming his fingers on the table again she was going to lose her mind but it was Sif who nodded. “Yes, now out.  You’re driving me crazy.”  

It wasn’t until Thor had left, smiling with the promise of seeing them later, that Sif turned to Natasha.  “Alright.  What’re you playing at?”

Oh hell.  Feigning idiocy would get her nowhere and so she went with the generic flush of her cheeks.  “W-what?”

“Don’t do that.  You know what I mean.  If you like him subtlety isn’t going to get you anywhere.”  Sif rolled her eyes, picking one of the open seats and placing herself in it, folding her ankles out in front of her as her arms folded over her chest.  How she managed to be intimidating, even to Natasha, was a feat. Nat, meanwhile, juggled herself from foot to foot.  Had she perhaps read Sif incorrectly when she thought that the woman wasn’t interested in Thor?  No, impossible.  Embarrassment it was.  

“I thought I was being obvious,” she admitted with the quietest of laughs, going for self deprecating.  “Unless I’m too obvious and I’m stepping on your toes--.”

“Oh by the Norns, absolutely not.”

Hah.  

“He’s a brother to me, the lummox.  Loki too.  No, I’m far more interested in you not making an idiot of yourself coming onto him and waiting for him to pick up the hint.”  The slightest trace of understanding passed over her face, that she knew what Natasha was going through.  It wasn’t pity, or an apology, not like what the others gave her.  It was an attempt to strengthen Natasha’s reputation through the others.  Sif understood the world they lived in, the precarious position the two women inhabited.  The Aesir women were expected to hold their own but not seek out combat.  Natasha and Sif were guards and if they were seen as compromised then every female who tried to take their place from then on faced the same discrimination.  Nat thought she could’ve kissed the woman.  

“You are too good to me, lady Sif,” she murmured, bowing her head.  “Though there’s a snag in it I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry; he flirts but he’s generally a one-woman man,” Sif assured her, waving her hand as though all of Natasha’s problems were so easily dissolved.  Nat swallowed hard, calculating and recalculating the intelligence of this decision.  

Ah, what the hell.  If it backfired she worked better under pressure anyway.  

“It’s not that.  It’s that Thor isn’t the only one I have feelings for.”

Here Sif stiffened, her eyes suddenly curious.  “Rogers?”  Was that finally the spark of jealousy and intrigue Nat saw in her eyes?  Even better.

“No.  Oh heavens no.”

“Oh.”

“Do you?”

“What?  No--of course not.”  Sif huffed and looked away, wrapping and unwrapping a strand of her black hair around her pointer finger.  She’d done the same thing every time she’d come anywhere near one-on-one conversation with Steve and Nat couldn’t stop herself from smiling.  

“I can tell him about you.  Or bring him up.”  One of the girls in the Red Room had tried the same tactics on Natasha to find out about Alexei, not knowing he had a soft spot for Yelena.  Rosalie had been broken hearted when Nat had looked at her as though she was an idiot, but suddenly her heart ached for the girl and the world she’d known.  How had she even managed to consider anything so light hearted as to be in love with someone or even like them in any way other than a comrade in the midst of what they’d been through?  

She wished she’d had the chance, or at least had tried to take it when she could.  Now, she supposed, she would make up for it.  

“Only if you want to,” Sif said, taking her time to measure each word.  Her finger had stilled where it was messing with her hair and Nat smiled.  

“I do want to.  You’ve helped me already.  Have you liked Steve for a long time?”

“You said there was another?” Sif asked, looking pointedly back at Nat from where she’d been staring out at the door, making sure no one was coming to the door.  They were alone, and for that Nat couldn’t help but smile, all too much proud for having found out Sif’s weaker point.  

“This is where things get tricky,” Natasha admitted, being as coy as she could believably get away with.  “It’s that . . . I have feelings for both of them.  Thor and Loki.”  

 

Sif promised she wouldn’t tell anyone, though Nat didn’t think it would’ve been possible for her jaw to have fallen any further, or her grin to have been any wider when she finally pulled it together.  “You are in for a treat trying to get your feelings across to both of them without being too--you’re sure you have to feel this way?”

“Do I have to?” Nat teased with a laugh of her own, the two women now moving down to the dining halls, voices hushed, Natasha with the slightest of limps in her step.  Damn legs.  “Trust me, it’s the last thing I want.”  

“So what are you going to do?”  

Hell if Natasha actually knew, or if she’d bother telling Sif if she did.  She wanted the woman to trust her, yes, but keeping secrets was what Natasha did best.  To reveal everything simply wasn’t in her nature, nor would it be any time in the future.  Not unless it could get her exactly what she wanted, at least.  She gave a small shrug of her shoulders.  

“Try and deal with it, I suppose.  What do you think I should do?  You know them better than I do.”  

Sif’s lips turned upwards in a wry smile, a familiar glimmer of mischief falling over her face as she turned to look to Natasha.  “Truly?  I am not sure you need my help.  There’s a great deal more to you, Natasha, than I think you let on.”  The pair stopped behind a column, Natasha turning to face Sif.  “And don’t give me that confused look.  I believe you are better versed in seduction than you let on, and I will not hold it against you or think you less for it.  We all must stick with the tricks we know best.”  One of her hands moved to Natasha’s shoulder, squeezing it.  “And I do not believe you will need much help with Loki.  You two are far more alike than I think even you realize.  I would say he should be the clear choice for your affections, but if you desire Thor as well then I can give you some help there.”  

 

The hall was loud and rowdy enough to allow both women to slip inside without much attention being brought to them, the men at the table shouting across it to one another, regailing others with stories of their bravery.  At the head sat Thor, Loki far more subdued at his side, and Steve further down the table stuck between Volstagg and Fandral, who seemed insistent on having a competition between who could make him blush the most.  Natasha felt her heart go out to him but with a sly grin pushed Sif in that direction.  

“Go rescue him from your friends and he’ll be quite grateful,” she hissed in the woman’s ear.  Sif’s eyes turned on her, wide and lips forming an ‘o’ of surprise, before she pulled herself together and sauntered closer.  Whoever said that she didn’t have the wiles or the charm of the female persuasion clearly hadn’t been on the receiving end of the goddess’ determination.  Natasha watched, smiling as Sif brought a hand upside Fandral’s head, making the blond wince but turn in grinning determination to try and bring her into the competition.  Sif simply shook her head, dark tresses swinging, before reaching down to pull Steve by the shoulder away from the duo.  He couldn’t have looked any happier.  

“You’re looking much better,” Loki’s voice came in Natasha’s ear as a mug of mead was pressed into her hands.  She nearly dropped it from the shock, whipping around to meet his grin and the amused flash in his green eyes.  Not many people could sneak up on her, and that he’d managed to made her heart race all the more.  

“Thanks.  It’s a wonder what bedrest can do for broken legs,” she offered as a retort before bringing the mug to her lips, the sweetened drink heaven on her tongue from having eaten nothing but bland bread, butter, and water for the past week or so.  Not that she wasn’t used to that, too, she reflected as Loki led her to the table, a hand in the middle of her back.  Thor’s attention was caught on something that a blonde woman was saying to him, her green eyes alight with the same spark of interest Nat had often seen in Loki’s when he saw something that interested him (herself included, she was proud to say) and she felt her hackles begin to rise a little bit.  As if she wasn’t competitive enough, it was almost too much for her to consider someone else moving in when she had a plan that required the complete and undivided affection of both men.  She wasn’t going to play second fiddle to anyone, but those schemes would have to wait.  

Thor noticed her either way, and she was pleased to say that his face seemed to split into a bigger grin when he caught her eye.  She turned away demurely, leaning closer to hear what Loki was saying, pressing her hand to his shoulder to steady herself.  

“Before you told me you were afraid to open up to those around you, that you were unsure who to trust after what had happened,” he said quietly, lips brushing against the skin of her ear sending shivers down her spine, her breath catching slightly in her throat.  “Do you still trust me?”

“Yes,” she bobbed her head slowly, seeking out his gaze.  Wasn’t it enough that she’d opened up to him before, in the infirmary? She hadn’t been lying when she’d said that the trick he’d done was neat; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been that honest with someone, and it frightened the hell out of her.  This wasn’t supposed to happen, wasn’t part of the plan.  Loki, for as similar and compatible as they might’ve been, was not the one with the most power, would not likely be able to grant her the ability to return to Midgard.  But his affection and attention would drive Thor closer to wanting to prove his own for her, to try and outdo his brother.  It didn’t matter what she felt, she reminded herself as she forced it down.  She had a mission.  

“Then I’d like to try and teach you some magic.  Just to see if you take to it.  Sometimes with the apples, they not only bestow the power and strength of the Aesir but a touch of Seidr, our magic.  If you are lucky enough to walk away with some, well, you may be able to fight back in ways that many would not expect.”

Whatever she might have been hoping to hear it was certainly not that.  Her eyes widened as she looked at him fully, pulling away so she could try and fish out the truth or the lie in the statement, but he only glowed--yes, glowed--with the news.  

“You mean it?”

“This I would not joke about; I would not betray your trust.”  

Somehow she thought there may be a time when she found a lie in that, but as he sat beside her then, smiling and waiting for her response, she couldn’t help but lean forward and press her lips to his cheek.  

Conveniently, Thor just happened to look over at the perfect time.  The mug of mead he had likely been holding onto clattered to the ground, the noise enough to make Natasha spring away from Loki out of surprise, turning around just as the blond man shouted “ANOTHER!” to try and save face.  Inwardly she smirked.  Perfect.  

“I’d like that very much, Loki,” she admitted to him, looking up at him through her lashes, watching his adam’s apple bob as he looked down at her.  He licked his lips like he wanted to say something else but before he could Fandral moved to sit between the two of them.  Nat wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been sent by Thor himself, the prince’s glower certainly lessening as he watched his best friend part Loki and Natasha.  The former couldn’t have looked any less pleased while Nat just took it all in stride, forcing herself to smile and play the part.  The time would come, she supposed, and for then she could use Thor’s jealousy to her benefit.  

Wouldn’t Ivan be proud?

 

Things fell into a normal routine once more, Natasha more than grateful that it had.  She didn’t want any extra attention, already dealing with more than she could practically handle between the two princes, and what with extra guard training, in which they were taught how to adapt further to the new techniques they were being trained on.  They’d even moved from the old training grounds, now taking part in the training in the large, tan-stoned courtyard to the side of the palace itself.  Nat grinned as she saw the other warriors sparring, eager to see what they could all do, what she could do to undermine all those possible.  Thor caught a glimpse of her enthusiasm and stepped closer to her as the rules of the courtyard were being explained by Ulfir.  

“Will you spar with me first, good lady?” He asked, lips brushing up against her cheek, beard scratching the skin there.  She smiled in spite of herself, turning her expression playful and unsure as she pulled away, rubbing the side of her face as though she had to think about it.  

“Oh I don’t know.  I thought I might try and take on Fandral first.”

“Fandral’s technique is nowhere near as good as mine is.”

“Oh but I hear he’s excellent with a sword,” she said, eyebrows rising and tongue flicking out over her bottom lip.  Thor let out a low chuckle that shouldn’t have set her heart beating so rapidly in her chest, but it did.  

“Oh my dear lady, I can assure you I am a much more accomplished swordsman if that is what you are looking for.”  

Oh wasn’t he subtle.  She just chuckled and stepped slowly away from him, watching with a smile as he watched her go, smiling himself, surely not used to being turned down or at least not having an overly enthusiastic response.  It would only make him more desperate for her attention, she was sure, and sure enough she didn’t fight against the partner she’d been given, a friendly enough man she’d sparred with before while Thor threw himself into rotation as well.  Out of the corner of her eye she watched him go up against Fandral and, as promised, he was indeed quite good with the sword.  Interesting.  She, herself, twisted and turned faster than her opponent could keep up with, utilizing that her center of gravity were in his hips while his shoulders carried far too much weight.  It wasn’t hard for her to knock him down, brandishing the newly granted silver blade, the metal flashing in the light as she pointed it down at his throat.  He swallowed hard once, then visibily relaxed when she extended her hand to his, an easy smile on her face.  Rather than allowing himself to be pulled up he tugged her down, though, rolling her over onto her back as he pinned her hips down with his own and pressed a small, hidden dagger to her throat.  Her mind whirled into overdrive, hips bucking to throw him off once again as she put all her weight and strength behind it.  No. No. No.  Another man was not getting this close to her unless it was on her own terms.  Panting hard, she managed to drive one knee hard enough into his spine that she felt it crack under the pressure.  He shouted and the grip on his dagger loosened, allowing her to whip her head to the side.  The blade pressed into her skin as she leaned up and rammed her elbow into his jaw, breaking it so that he had to fall off of her.  His blood coated her hand as she struggled to her feet and stepped away quickly.  

“Romanov.  The instructions were not to maim your opponent,” Ulfir reprimanded, not noticing how she trembled in front of him.  Oh, God.  What had she done?  She barely managed an apology before two others moved to help him up, Nat not trusting herself after the stunt he’d pulled.  The memory of his hips against hers, combined with the nasty memories and flashes she got of the other guards who had tried a similar stunt on her, only made her want to throw up.  She choked it down, though, trying to center herself through another breathing exercise, waiting for the eyes to leave her.  

“Natasha, come walk with me,” Thor murmured, suddenly at her elbow as he took her hand in his.  She pulled away and shook her head.  

“No.  I’m not weak and they cannot see me as such,” she said, vehement.  Her eyes flashed as she looked up at him.  “Do you want to help me?”

“Yes,” he said, and she believed him.  

“Then fight me.”

 

He squared off against her once she stopped shaking, holding his sword as though it were another extension of his arm while Natasha’s grip was unhealthily tight on her own.  She closed her eyes for a brief moment, pulling it all together, and heard him rush towards her, as though he knew that she wouldn’t want him to take it easy on her.  Surpisingly insightful for him.  At the last moment she opened her eyes and twirled to the side, the butt of her sword about to knock into his head when he dropped low enough to knock his forearm into her side, sending her sprawling out onto the ground.  With ease, she flipped back up, a move she’d perfect since Russia, and sword still in hand she charged him, utilizing her speed to its greatest effect in throwing him off.  When she got close enough she slowed down in order to bend over backwards and avoid the swing of his sword, twisting her body unnaturally to the side so that her blade clanged as it came into contact with his armor.  Her own was struck next, the blow vibrating her whole body as it pushed her over, knocking her balance off before her legs were swept out from under her.  She kicked out at Thor, able to muster enough strength to make him go skidding back before he could get close enough, and again she twisted herself up, sword lying forgotten as she crouched in her position.  The old Red Room habits died hard, and with a grin Thor threw his sword to the side as well.  

“A wrestling match it is,” he teased, all playfulness while Natasha tried to shake off the impulse to kill him.  He lunged first, and she rolled out of the way before launching herself at his back and managing to grip him just right that all of his weight acted against him and she could bring him down.  Her hands pulled his arms tight behind his back, thighs tightening over his as she rolled her hips forward slightly to try and pin him down.  She hadn’t bet on him rolling her over, nearly flattening her with his weight as she let out a tiny squeak of surprise.  Dammit, that armor and muscle weighed a ton!  He reached behind to try and grip her arms, to pull them tight around him, but she butted her head up against his.  He must’ve seen it coming, having been on the receiving end before, and rolled off of her and out of the way, onto all fours, before scrambling to try and gain purchase of her limbs, to force her into submission.  That wasn’t something she did well, and before too long she’d slithered her body out of his hold, twisted around him, and pinned him down herself so he could hardly move without wincing.  

If submission wasn’t in her nature, surrender wasn’t in his.  He strained and groaned against her hold, eyes wild when they stared at her, his face a few scant inches from his.  One of her brows arched as she leaned closer, not sure just how much longer she’d be able to take him fighting against her, concentration bound to break soon.  “Let me win and I’ll make it worth your while,” she promised, breath hot against his ear.  

Immediately he stilled, pulling back to look her square in the eyes.  Not a second later his body went limp beneath her, and those who had stopped to watch the two spar grinned as Nat released him a moment later.  She decided she liked the way his eyes flashed, taken aback by having lost for the first time in however long, while at the same time he’d helped Natasha regain at least a little of her dignity back.  

She’d make it up to him as promised.  

 

She slammed him back up against the wall of the room, standing on her tiptoes so she could crash her lips hard against his, hands sliding up and down his armor, finding the crevices that she could slip her fingers into, as deadly as any knife or bullet could ever be, before trying to find the straps that held it all together.  Let him think her needy to feel his skin, she thought as her body took over, battling against him for dominance.  He kissed like he fought, hard enough to bruise and sting yet left her wanting more than she was willing to admit to.  While this heady desire would normally have made her nervous she chalked it up to having gone so long without letting some of this ridiculous sexual anxiety out.  Sure, the fighting was great, and got her blood singing through her veins, she had all sorts of needs that had to be attended to, and Thor, she hoped, would be excellent at fulfilling all of them.  

Before she could stop herself the question of whether Loki would be able to flitted through her mind.  

No.  Bad Natasha.  Thor, think of Thor.  She forced herself to focus on the way his large arms wrapped around her body, holding her close even as she managed to pull his armor off and drop it to the ground.

“Don’t dent it,” he teased, pulling his lips away to let her breathe.  Hah.  Air.  Who needed it, really?  She just gave a low chuckle before unfastening the straps to her own breast plate and letting it join his on the floor.  A low hum of pleasure worked its way through his chest as she pressed her lips to his again and ran her fingers up, under the fabric of his shift.  His body was still wet with sweat, not that she minded, the heady scent of him filling her senses just as surely as his hard cock pressed up against her inner thigh when she shifted slightly.  

Oh, God in heaven.  Or Odin.  Or whoever she was supposed to address.  That was big.  

She couldn’t be afraid, though, would never let herself live it down if she showed him anything but pure want, and so with hooded eyes reached one of her hands down to stroke him through the fabric.  He twitched against her hand and she moaned to feel its heat and weight pressing back against her, before she moved her hand to undo the laces of his trousers.  He was gasping when she pulled away from his mouth, kissing her way down his throat at the same time her nails scratched over his abs, loving how he shuddered beneath her touch, and still she didn’t stop until she’d sunk down onto her knees and taken him from the confines of his clothing.  Her hand stroked him once or twice appraising the flushed dick in front of her face as she tried to think how best to work at this.  It was going to take every trick in the book to make sure she didn’t choke on it, and just as she had taken the head into her mouth, tongue swirling around the head, tasting pre-come on her tongue, there was a loud banging on the door.   

“Not now!” Thor snarled from within, Natasha smirking naughtily up at him before she took him into her mouth as best she could, slowing down as he pushed at her throat.  He gasped and tipped his head back until it hit the wall, one hand finding her hair and massaging her scalp.  There was another knock, followed by his mother’s voice.  “Thor, the Allfather wishes to see you.  Urgently.”

Thor swore as Nat pulled her mouth off of him and grimaced.  Well, there was no defying that.  Deftly, Thor rearranged himself before helping Natasha replace her metal breast plate and ignoring his own.  He could get away with it, at least.  

“Later?” He asked, looking desperately at her as he pressed his lips hard to hers.  

She shook her head slowly.  “Guard duty tonight.  Tomorrow,” she promised, though they’d have to see what that would bring.  Damn, she’d been so close!  At least he looked about ready to do anything, though.  Desperate.  It was how she wanted him so when she came to him with a request, to help her get over her homesickness, he would melt in her hands.  

At least, that was how she hoped it went down.  Failure was not an option.  Stealing an apple, however, was still one key part of the plan that was missing, but at least she had some time to figure out how to get away with it.  

They left separately once Frigga had disappeared, Thor kissing Nat one last time before resolutely walking in the direction of the throne room.  Nat waited half a minute before leaving his chamber as well, running a hand through her well-tousled hair and watching as Thor disappeared through the doors, carrying all the repressed sexual tension and frustration in his shoulders.  She smirked.  Poor boy.  

 

Later, as it turned out, didn’t come, and much to Thor’s displeasure nor was he allowed to with Natasha.  He’d growled in frustration as he regaled her with the explanation of how he was to go to Vanaheim for diplomatic reasons, and though she assured him that there would be plenty of time after he got back for them to celebrate he had shaken his head, more than a little put out.  At least he was more than willing to accommodate her, she was happy to find out, the prince having grabbed her by the hips and kissed her silly until she was wet.  From there he pressed a finger slowly into her, gasping as she rolled her hips against his digit, before he added a second and picked up the speed.  She came in little to no time, especially after his thumb began to circle her clit, coaxing a hard-won orgasm from her, his name whispered in his own ear.  She tried offering him at least the same but he wouldn’t hear of it, explaining that he was already late as it was.  

“I’ll be back with Frigga in a week,” he promised her, licking his fingers free of her juice and smirking when she flushed at the sight.  “Be good for me, will you?” He asked, kissing his way up her jaw to her ear.  “I think I’ll offer the first guard to take your shifts for the first week I’m back a knighthood just so I can have you all to myself for the whole time.”  

“Thor,” she shot him a fake look of astonishment as she pushed against his chest plate.  “Go.  The longer you linger the longer you’ll be gone.”  

He stole one last kiss before disappearing in a whirl of red.  

She gave it an hour before seeking out Loki, washing her mouth out beforehand.  No way did she want to get anywhere remotely close of that awkward sort of conversation.  

 

To her great displeasure he was nowhere to be found, not at first at least.  She checked his chambers, asking the maids if they’d seen him, pretending to have news for him when they gave her inquisitive looks about why a lowly guard would be looking for the second prince of Asgard.  He wasn’t in any of his usual haunts, either, as strange as that seemed, and she left the studies and large library disappointed.  As her eyes searched the ground, seeing but not quite paying attention, she tried to think of where else he could be.  Where had she missed?  And why was there a blue trail of what looked like water droplets leading into one of the few extra rooms just outside the library?  

Did she dare follow them?  

Yes, she supposed to she did, and while one hand stayed near her blade at all times, the othe runlocked the heavy wooden door hiding the rest of the trail.  It was near impossible to open, reminding her of the first time she’d come into contact with a magic barrier, and her heart leapt as she saw Loki on the other side of the door.  He glowered.  

“Usually a closed door means you need to knock before entering,” he shot at her, ignoring the look of surprise and hurt.  Since when had he become so cross with her?  For a fleeting moment she wondered if he somehow knew about she and Thor, but that was impossible.  They’d been careful to keep it quiet--incredibly careful.  She didn’t want to think of what the other guards would consider if they thought she was getting shown favoritism.  

“Why are you hiding from me, Loki?” She asked, brow furrowed as she reached out.  He stepped backwards, scowling.

“I’m not.  I’m working, and I need you to leave me alone.  Now.”  The last word was a growl, one order she would be stupid not to follow.  

Some days logic just seemed overrated.  She pressed on, too curious what had gotten him so bent out of shape.  Nothing looked out of the ordinary in the room and yet . . . and yet something was amiss.  She looked around, unsure what to make of the heavy air and the way it felt to try and move her hands through it, as though she was pushing against a weak current of water.  Her eyes flew up to Loki’s, watched his expression change from that of fury to disbelief that she hadn’t listened to him.  

“Loki.  No more tricks,” she murmured, her face softening as she reached out to him.  “No more illussions.  Something’s wrong.  Tell me, please.”  

The illusion in front of her disappeared in a glimmer of green and gold, as did the order within the room.  The blue trail that she’d seen outside led to an all blue figure leaning against a bookshelf, his hair disheveled and fingertips bleeding from where it looked like he’d scratched himself all over.  Her eyes widened, recognizing the markings that covered his arms and face.  

“There.  Now you see me.”  Red eyes bored into hers, sad and pitiful, before he forced himself to look away.  “The real me.  Go run and scream that the prince of Asgard is nothing more than a sham.  That Loki Odinson no longer exists.”  

She could hear the thickness in his voice, the heavy hearted words like claws digging into her own.  She knew how he felt, what it was like to not belong.  What it meant to be different than everyone else.  With a heavy heart, she stepped closer and knelt down at his side, moved to take his hand in hers.  He hissed and pulled away, flinching as though he was afraid he would hurt her.  She didn’t blame him, having been told the stories of what frost giants did to their enemies.  But she still trusted him, no matter what he was.  No matter whose son, or what race, he was still the man she’d inexplicably opened up to, and so with ginger but sure fingers she brushed them against the tips of his, smiling when nothing happened.  He watched in horrified fascination as she pressed her fingers flush against his.  Sure, his skin was cooler to the touch, and looked oddly blue against her skin, but if she was honest he reminded her of home, of the strong winter winds she missed, the week-long snows that she could get lost in, the hot chocolate before the war with her family, and the one snowball fight she’d managed to get away with when she was growing up in the Red Room.  

“I’m not going anywhere, Loki,” she promised, lacing his fingers with hers so that his blue blood coated her skin, turning her as blue as he was.  She smiled to look at it, while her inner voice screamed this was a bad idea.  Emotions were trouble, connections and companions and feelings weren’t what she needed.  

Bully what she needed.  He looked about ready to cry when she brought her lips to the back of his hand and removed her own to let him cup the side of her face.  “I’m here for you,” she assured him, looking up to catch his red eyes blinking furiously.  

Oh she was in trouble.   

 


	8. You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! So, these two just will not quit, and so I present to you chapter 8! So much for taking a break during November, right? Damn. Oh well.  
> Thank you all so much for reading, subscribing, leaving kudos--It means the world to me! Thanks so very, very much and I hope you enjoy!

First they had to clean him up.  Natasha slipped out of the study, careful to hide the Jotun blood on her hands as she made her way to the nearest empty room to grab clean linens.  Though he had healed himself, when he eventually took on the Aesir facade once more it wouldn’t do to show him covered in the blood of their enemies, not when any who caught them would demand a story or decent explanation, prince of Asgard or not.  

_Prince of Jotunheim._

The thought came to her unbidden and she swallowed hard.  No.  It wasn’t time to think of that, not when Loki needed help.  She would analyze everything later; right then what mattered was getting him all together again.  Like the nursery rhyme of the egg that cracked, Loki was shattering in front of her eyes and she didn’t know what to do.  

Her hands were trembling by the time she found the towel she needed, and she dipped them into the basin of water each room was, mercifully, filled with, just on the offhand chance that it was needed for a visitor.  Not that she wasn’t sure Loki could do all this himself--Jotun or not he still had his magic--but why further stress him out?  The water, while she’d been dipping her hands in it, had turned blue without her realizing, catching her attention as she pulled her now cleaned hands out.  Her heart turned heavy as she looked down, and without quite realizing what it was she was doing she knocked it down and out onto the floor, watching the blue-ish liquid splatter and splash down the floor tiles.  

“Natasha?  What are you doing?”

The voice made Nat freeze, glad for her clean hands as she turned around to face Frigga, forcing a smile onto her face as she did her best to compose herself.  

“My queen,” she dipped into a quick curtsey.  “I’m sorry, I, ah, do not know what came over me.”

The woman gave her a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the basin.  “Did it offend you?”

_‘Think Romanov, think!’_

“I offended myself.  My reflecting.  Weakness,” Nat looked down, biting her bottom lip in a look of contrite sorrow and shame.  “I’m not used to being like everyone else, and yet feeling so,” she hesitated, knowing it would add weight to her words if she drew in a quick, shuddering breath.  “So weak.”  

But wait, wasn’t Frigga supposed to be in Vanaheim?  The realization hit her with a hard knock to her lungs.  Did her return have to do with Loki?  The queen stepped forward, having taken the way that Nat’s body had seized with the confession as a sign of her own further self loathing, and grasped the redhead’s shoulder with a knowing, sad smile.  “You are not like everyone else, Natasha, nor are you weak.  You and Sif are strong in ways few women can be, the both of you cut from the same cloth, and in no way are either of you weak for your decisions.  You are warriors and women, neither of which is anything to be ashamed of.  Do not let the actions of those around you weigh your mind with cheap insults.”    She squeezed her shoulder once while with her other hand righted the basin.  Natasha thanked her for her kind words, blinking back quick crocodile tears, and Frigga waved away the thanks.  

“I do have one more question for you.  Have you seen Loki?”

Oh, hell.  “Loki?  No, I have not.  Is that why you have returned from Vanaheim?”  She winced as though she’d let something slip, though she took in the way that Frigga’s own eyes widened slightly, surprised by the information, before turning reproachful.  “My queen.  Sorry.”

“I received a message from the All-Father that requested my return, though Thor remains abroad. Yes.  Thor is rather free with his information, isn’t he?”  

Nat’s lips quirked up in a smile as she nodded quickly.  “Yes.  He wanted me to know he wouldn’t be gone long.”

“You’ve grown rather close to both of my boys, haven’t you?” Frigga asked, moving her hand down to Natasha’s shoulders as she started to push her towards the door.  Nat knew better than to object.  She flushed at the queen’s question and looked down, digging her toe into the tile as they started walking towards Loki’s room.  She didn’t want to leave him there, didn’t want him to think that she’d abandoned him when he needed it the most, but how the hell was she going to get herself away from Frigga?  

“They’ve both been very kind to me while I’ve been trying to adjust.  I owe them both quite a lot,” she admitted.  “It was Thor who found me before when the two guards attacked me,” she said, only half pretending to stumble over the words.  “And Loki who helped me to heal afterwards.  I’m not sure if they felt responsible for what happened, being that they were supposed to be in control and keep watch over the other guards, but for whatever the reason I have greatly appreciated their help.”  It wasn’t a lie.  She didn’t want to think about where she’d be without them, which only made the truth of what she had to do that much more difficult.  

But it would get done.  It was the job, and this was exactly why she didn’t deal with emotions.  Too tricky, too difficult to get around.  Too distracting.  

Frigga was talking and Nat missed most of it in favor of stopping in front of the study, only catching the last half: “I worry about them the older they get,” she confessed.  “They grow stronger and closer together, yet the resentment lies deep beneath the surface.  In them both.  Perhaps I have encouraged it, thinking it was little more than friendly competition.”  Frigga sighed and shook her head, wringing her hands in front of her.  “I’ve tried to keep myself from playing favorites, but in order to make up for Odin’s . . . well, I’m sure you’ve seen that.”  

On more than one occasion.  Nat could only ever remember Odin showing favoritism to Thor, no matter what he did, whether it was praise for something that was ultimately Loki’s scheme, or the praise for fighting, or disappearing to trackdown animals for sport, rather than need.  Loki weaseled his way out of punishment, but only slightly, and even the times that Loki managed to play it off as if the deed in question was all Thor’s fault the man rarely got punished.  Perhaps a week or two without training, or he would have his ability to leave revoked, but what was that in comparison to the things he got away with, and did in spite of Odin’s commands?    Odin’s one good eye kept fixed on his youngest, always watching, always checking on him.  Once Natasha might’ve thought it was out of affection, now his every action seemed to be tainted with a double meaning.  As though he was afraid of his son.  Adopted son.  She swallowed hard, surveying Frigga.  She knew of Loki’s origin, that he wasn’t her child (that would have been hard to convince her otherwise) and she still treated him like her favorite?  Still taught him her tricks with seidr?  Her heart swelled with admiration for the woman at her side.  

“They both know that you love them equally,” Natasha told the woman with a smile, dipping her head with it as though to look modest.  They’d come to stand just outside the study that Loki was still in, Frigga having stopped when Natasha did.  She hoped he was still in there.  “If you’ll excuse me, I left something in here.  If I find Loki I will be sure to tell him that you’re searching for him.”  

Frigga thanked her with a nod of her head, and Nat waited until she stepped away and down the hall.  Only then did she open the door, head peeking in to see Loki.  Good.  He’d stood up from where he’d been sitting, his still blue fingers brushing through the pages of the book in front of him, movements lazy .  His red eyes looked up to meet hers and she offered him the towel in her hand only to see that he’d already cleaned the blood from him.  Oh.  She gave a small smile and dropped the towel onto the table.  

“Guess you didn’t need it.”

“I didn’t think you’d come back.  I thought--.”

“Loki, I would never leave you,” Natasha said, startling herself with the conviction in her voice and even more so the strength with which she felt it.  She’d moved closer to him as a result, one hand extending to touch his arm, caressing the soft lines on his skin, tracing upwards past the leather to caress the side of his face.  He swallowed hard, eyes following Natasha’s tongue when it poked out of her mouth to run across her bottom lip.  

“Natasha you don’t have to pity me--.”  
“Shut up,” she muttered as she leaned in to press her lips against his.  She felt him tense up under her, but half a moment later he melted into her, pulling her hard against him one arm wrapped around her waist, his mouth devouring hers.  The chill of his skin sent goosebumps rising on her flesh and she moaned as he nibbled on her bottom lip with slightly sharper teeth, the slight pain of it heaven to her nerves system.  This wasn’t supposed to happen, wasn’t supposed to go like this--.  Those thoughts died quick when he moaned her name, kissing down her jaw to her throat, fingers biting into her hips.  She gasped as his fingers slipped under her tunic, rubbing at the bare skin before he pulled away.  Blue skin gave way to regular, pale white skin and Nat couldn’t help but feel a small sense of regret as the heat of his body surged again.  It certainly made sense why he was cooler than all the others now, but in comparison to how he was a moment ago?  Well she hadn’t minded it.  His lips were swollen, and she was willing to bet her own were as well, and slowly she traced her thumb over his bottom lip.  

"I’m not leaving you.  I’m not pitying you, or ashamed of you.  I’m just not . . . not sure what this is,” she admitted.  “If I’m ready for something that involves a relationship and responsibilities when I’m trying to get my own work together--.” She was saying too much.  She panicked for a moment, but lucky for her he thought it was because she worried over his response.  “I really like what just happened but--.”

“You are still recovering from the ordeal you just went through.  I understand,” he assured her with a small smile, and bent forward to press his lips to hers very quickly.  “I can be discreet with my affections if that is what you wish.”

Yes.  No?  She smiled and nodded, murmuring a thanks before seating herself on the table.  He let out a low hiss of air as he watched her skirt ride up slightly.  

“You certainly know how to distract a man from his previous thoughts,” he murmured, a glint in his eye as he leaned in to kiss her cheek, moving to nibble on her ear so that her heart jumped.  Oh, damn.  This was getting dangerous and she did her best to catch her breathe.  To pull it together.  

“Well, it’s just one of my many wonderful attributes,” she teased as she pulled away, running a hand down his chest before her gaze sobered once more.  “Thank you, Loki.  For being so understanding.”

He gave a soft chuckle, the infectious one that always made her smile in spite of herself.  Stupid, adorable bastard.  “If there’s anyone to be thanked for being understanding I do believe you have taken that position.”  He pulled away, forcing himself to concentrate as well it seemed, and Nat took the moment to look him over.  He seemed well composed enough as he checked himself over, ensuring that not an inch of blue was showing.  She couldn’t blame him, but pushed herself down to the floor and pressed one last kiss to his lips before telling him that his mother was looking for him.  Though his face paled at the thought, all Nat could think of was that at least it wasn’t Odin.  She didn’t want to think about how that conversation would go down.  

 

Convenient for the king, it seemed, was the Odinsleep that he’d fallen into, a strange coma-like trance that Natasha didn’t think she’d ever get used to; the idea was just too at odds with everything else she’d learned about the Asgardians.  They were strong warriors, fighters, and to think that just an overload of stress could send their bodies into hibernation?  Well, she planted that away for future, just in case.  She didn’t want to think about when she’d need to use it, but one never knew she supposed.  

Thor came back soon after, Frigga ruling as regent in his place while he finished up his time in Vanaheim.  Natasha was added to a more permanent place in the training roster, much to her pleasure, though she was afraid that Thor had said something as he’d promised the first week he’d gotten back.  Loki and she had been enjoying his disappearance, though neither prince knew about it, and now that the pair would be in the same castle again things were only going to get more interesting.  She hated these sort of things, having to try and play two people against one another. It made the most sense, but dammit all if she wasn’t sick of having to play people.  

Especially Loki.  

Frigga had known about his heritage, and when the man had gone to her about it she’d assured him that she still loved him no matter what.  Loki had recounted the tale for her one evening when they sat in the study together, Natasha on his lap, running her hands through his hair, his lips lazily dragging down her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, fingers undoing her breastplate--.  

“My lady,” Thor boomed, grinning as he caught up with her on her usual roam about the halls, taking her from her thoughts of the past week.  At least her cheeks were flushed, making it look as though she were pleased to see him.  

“My prince,” she said, dipping into a small curtsey.  He lifted her up with an impatient hand on her shoulder, pulling her instead into a swift hug, his large body more than dwarfing her own.  

“Have you missed me, my lady?” He teased, his grin widening as he caught sight of her red cheeks.  She nodded, biting her bottom lip and looking up at him between her lashes.

“Very much, Thor,” she admitted, not separating herself from him even after he let her go from the hug.  “I thought when your lady mother returned that maybe you might be with her, but you had more pressing matters?  Is everything alright?”

“Certainly.” He said as though it wasn’t anything.  “Nothing to worry about.  Come and take a walk with me, I’ve missed the sound of your voice.”  

What a gentleman.  He even offered his arm so they could walk, inquiring how her training was going.  She’d been doing better now that she’d overcome her seemingly out of the blue fear of being pinned.  If anything, she’d managed to turn it into an advantage, utilizing the fear that clogged her veins and pores to fuel herself to go even further than she had in the past, to work harder and train for longer.  Steve had noticed the difference and complimented her on it, though he was most nights preoccupied with a certain other distraction.  When Nat had learned that Sif was interested in Steve she’d done everything in her power to push them together, especially in the sparring lessons.  Sif was, seemingly, immediately taken with the man’s instincts to treat her as a fighter first, a woman second when they were on the field, and then to come back from that and be as gentlemanly as he had been lately?  Well it was only a matter of time.  Nat filled Thor in on that gossip, too, as though it were some great scandal.  She even winked for good measure, alerting him to her joke as though her tone hadn’t done it enough.  He just grinned and repositioned his arm so it slung over her shoulders.  He was very warm, wrapped in blue cloth that covered him like a cloak, and she inhaled deep the scent that was pure Thor: a certain odor of the forest that made her chest ache with a reminder of her home and the forests around it used to keep its location hidden.  While Loki smelled of secrets and the arcane, Thor reeked of war and the battlefield, the great outdoors in the best of ways, and for a quick second her head spun with the possibility of the both of them.

Woah.  Where had that come from?  

Still, she wouldn’t say no if it ever came to that.  It wouldn’t, not like this when her cover could so easily be blown, but maybe.  Eventually.  

She chewed on the inside of her mouth, contemplating, doing her best to look as though she was searching for another tale to tell him.  She kept Loki’s secret locked deep in the recesses of her mind.  It wasn’t hers to tell nor was it any of his business if Loki didn’t want him, specifically, knowing, and he’d mentioned the prince by name when he told her not to tell.  He feared what his adopted brother might do if he found out the man he’d been raised with was one of the monsters he’d fought so hard to defeat.  She didn’t blame him one bit.  

Whatever Thor had been saying she’d missed, looking up at him as he cleared his throat, watching her expectantly.  “Sorry,” she murmured, turning away and running a hand through her hair, tousling the red curls gently.  That always seemed to get his attention.  “I lost myself in my own thoughts.”  

His hand replaced hers, thick fingers finding her scalp and massaging it gently.  She practically purred and lost her strength right there.  That was awesome.  “I asked if you wanted to go hunting with me.  Just you and I.  The weather is finally beginning to cool off a touch, it’s not near as hot as before.”  He waggled his eyebrows a touch and she didn’t have to have Loki’s magic to know what was on his mind.  

“Would you bring the Warrior’s Three and Sif?”

“Likely.  Loki as well--you object?”  He asked, frowning when her face blanched a little.  “I thought the pair of you got on well.”  

“We do,” she assured him, forcing her mind into overdrive as she tried to think up a decent excuse.  Dammit dammit dammit!  “But I thought, perhaps this is out of line and improper of me, but just you and I?” She stopped and turned to face him, one of her hands resting on his arms, head tipped flirtatiously to the side as she turned her expression into a more demure one.  How much longer was that going to even work on him?  “I’m not sure if that’s entirely accepted here but, well, it’s a little more private.  And I’d like to see you in all your glory, showing me how to hunt,” she murmured.  

“There may be a fuss about it if we are unaccompanied,” he warned her, though she could tell his eyes gleamed at the idea.  She chuckled and slowly slid one hand up his chest, fingers scratching through the fabric as they pulled back down.  

“I’m sure the Warriors Three often set out during the week to go visit other realms, do they not?” She asked.  “Perhaps if we infer that they are coming with us, their absence will be noted along with ours and no one will be any the wiser?  They are your best friends, after all.  I am certain they would understand the need for discretion.”  And it would be easier to sink her claws into him further if they were alone for some time.  She forced down the regret pooling in her throat, begging to be released and confess to him that she didn’t want to and she was really--.

Really what?  In love with Loki?  Love didn’t exist, not anymore.  She was infatuated with him, appreciated his genius and his own sort of strength.  Enjoyed his company and thought highly of him, yes, but loved?  She didn’t think it possible.  Not when the clock was ticking.  As weeks passed on Asgard who knew how long it took for time to move on Midgard?  The concept alone made her stomach drop, but she forced her face to remain as free of her internal struggle as possible. With a peck on the cheek, Thor assured her that he’d talk to the Warriors Three that night, and Nat nodded her appreciation before moving back to her room.  Just across the hall she could hear Sif’s voice coming from Steve’s room and grinned.

 _‘Atta boy, Rogers,’_ she thought.  It would keep him off her back and unassuming, and Sif would owe her one.  Things, she supposed, might have just been falling into place regardless of everything else around her.  

 


	9. Drunk on Sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, my good friends, is where we reach the E rating [finally] so please read appropriately =] Thanks!

It had been a trick to organize the damn trip, let alone without letting Loki know, and for that Natasha felt terrible.  The man had been struggling to come to terms with what had happened between himself and Odin (Loki wouldn’t tell her what, exactly had happened, and Nat wasn’t about to pry.)  Though Frigga had been left with the task of helping him adjust to the news, and they were all three of them doing their best to keep it from Thor, it certainly wasn’t making her leaving for a few days any easier on them and though she was good at lying, well, he was better at seeing through them.  It was a good thing, she supposed, that she was so used to choosing her words carefully.  

“Natasha just tell me the truth,” he coaxed the night before she was supposed to leave, the pair of them laying in bed together, her backend pressed to his front.  One of his hands ran up and down her forearm, leaving goosebumps in his wake.  She gave a quiet laugh, eyes catching his.  

“Rich coming from the god of lies himself.”

“I have never once lied to you.”

“Really?  And how would I know if you did?” She teased, turning her body lazily to kiss him on the lips.  He responded accordingly, though near the end he pulled away rather early.  She barely caught herself before she let out a moan of disapproval.  He smiled, nuzzling her neck gently with his nose.  

“Just tell me, I will not be cross,” he promised.  She was pretty sure that was a lie, and was determined to catch him in it when he brought her earlobe into his mouth and nibbled on it.  Now that was just playing dirty.  

“I’m just going to be gone for a few days,” she promised, her voice a little higher pitched than it meant to be as he latched on and sucked.  Her hips bucked slightly, unable to stop herself.  A plan coming to her head she smirked and turned herself back around, taking his hands in hers so that she could press them to her breasts, filling his hands and feeling his body seize up with the surprise.  It was nice to know she could still take him by surprise.  As he fixated on that, her moans soft and filling the silence in between them, her ass backed up until it rubbed against his groin.  She could feel his erection pushing against her, straining against his trousers as she provided him with the friction he needed.  

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she promised with a soft, pleading voice.  “And when I do--when I come back, you’ll be so happy to see me won’t you Loki?” She purred.  He gave a soft grunt from behind her, an agreement as she circled her hips as best she could, grinning as one of his moans stuttered at the pressure.  

“You’ll be happy?” She asked again, voice lilting up to emphasize that she wanted an answer.  

“Yes--Norns, yes Natasha,” he murmured, biting her ear again.  She moaned as he started to rut up against her backside.  She bit her bottom lip as she whined and spurred him on.  

“You think you can handle this, Loki?” She teased as she arched her back.  One of her hands moved to cup the hand covering her breast.  She shifted the edge of her shirt upwards, giving him access to her bare breast, not having bothered with a bra when she’d made up her mind that she was going to visit him that night.  What was the point when he’d find a way to take it off anyway?  His fingers teased her nipples gently until she whimpered and backed herself further against him.  

“Why don’t I show you, Tasha?” He whispered in her ear, breath hot against her skin as he brought one hand down to the waistband of her trousers.  She reached down to slap it away.  

“Uh-uh.  No.  You want me right now?” She teased.  “You only get me like this.”  She grinned as he let out a murmur of a curse and snapped his hips against hers again, the pair of them moaning quietly at the friction.  God, what she wouldn’t do to actually give in, to let him roll her pants down, swing her legs so she straddled him, and just take him right there like he was.  She shuddered at the thought and he mirrored it by biting her neck, not hard enough to leave a bruise (she’d have enough to explain away as it was, she’d told him before) but enough to bring forth a cry of surprise and pleasure.  Even though the fabric of their clothes he felt like heaven, and as she felt him nearing the end, the friction and her sweet words in his ear, her voice grew a little more forceful.  She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, and if this went on for much longer she had a nasty feeling she’d give in.  She couldn’t.  Wanted to, but couldn’t.  

“Come on, Loki.  Come for me,” she purred, circling her hips back against his groin as he’d liked so much before.  His hands had moved to her hips, holding her tight there as he pushed against her, moaning and all but begging for the release.  “Loki, come on darling.  Come.  Please.”  All she had to do was draw out the last word and he was off, hips spasming against hers, grip tight, forehead pressed to her bare shoulder.  Her name as a curse and a pledge of affection at the same time as it left his mouth, making her stomach bottom out and a wave of heat overcome her as well.  Was it possible to have an orgasm without stimulation?  Maybe.  If so, she’d just gotten as close as she’d ever been in quite some time.  His breathing still ragged, he slowly disengaged from where he was holding her in favor of turning her back around, pressing his lips hard against hers.  With the quickest snap of his fingers whatever sort of mess he’d made was cleaned up and he lay naked next to her, his heated body pressed tight against hers as one of his hands slipped deftly into her trousers.  

“Loki,” she murmured, though it only came out as a half warning, the rest steeped in desire for him.  He hushed her with his free hand, one finger pressed against her lips before she invited it in to her mouth, sucking on it and staring up at him through half lidded eyes.  He moaned again, fingers dipping closer to her sex as he ran his finger down the length of her already soaked panties before pushing the fabric aside and easing his digit into her sex.  She moaned around his finger, back arching at the friction afforded her, and before she knew it she was laying atop him, her back still pressed to his front, but he had a much better angle with which to fuck her with his fingers, having slipped a second one in with little problem.  His extra hand came to massage her breasts as he sucked languidly on her neck, murmuring how perfect she felt.  She could already feel his cock surging to life again, and had a feeling, if she ever was able to have sex with him, she’d be in for a long, long night.  

All puns intended.  

The thought alone was enough to make her salivate, but the way he shifted his fingers, stroked at her most sensitive spots, made her see heaven.  He abandoned her neck after her breathing became more ragged, moaning into her ear how good she felt, how much he wanted to be inside her, how perfect she was.  

“You’re my perfect girl, aren’t you?” He asked, voice a sultry whisper that set her skin erupting into gooseflesh.  

“Y-Yes.  Loki,” she whined.

“MY perfect girl, right?”

“Mhm--ah--yours,” she could barely get the words out, body tight as the string of a violin, his fingers playing her just as expertly as her concertmaster from the Red Room.  They’d never known what sort of missions she’d have to take, what she’d need to learn, and had well-versed her in everything possible.  Just for once, though, she thought as she pushed those memories away, she wanted something that didn’t bring her back, and with an empty mind save the constant pleading for more, she allowed herself to let go.  To just be.  To focus on the pleasure he inspired in her, the lust rolling off the pair of them, crashing into each other as one of her hands tightened on his wrist, urging him to go deeper, faster.  

Soon as he obliged she was set off, blinking rapidly as she swore she saw her life passing in front of her eyes, the intensity too much and at the same not nearly enough for her.  She wanted more, rolling her hips into his hand to try and obtain it.  If there was one thing about Loki that Nat would never have expected, it was how giving he was in bed, more than happy to bestow pleasure unto her so long as she begged and pleaded.  

She’d never enjoyed doing either so much in her life.  

 

The smile on Natasha's face was only half forced as she set off with Thor the next day on horseback, the pair of them wrapped in cloaks, swords at their side and a bag attached to each of their horse’s saddles with everything they might need.  Thor urged his white mare to slow down a touch so he could hang back with Natasha, who looked at much at home atop her own brown horse as Thor did, though inwardly she wasn’t too sure about this. She’d never ridden one before, and while the pace they were at was fine now she really wasn’t looking forward to getting down or the ache already setting in between her thighs.  Dammit, that wasn’t going to make what she had planned that evening any easier.  She kept a smile on her face, though, turning her head to face Thor as he spoke.  “You are a clever one, aren’t you?” He praised, reaching out to squeeze her hand.  “But you don’t have to hold onto the reigns so tight, though.”  

“Maybe I like going after what I want, and being in control when I get it,” she teased, lips curling into a wry smile as he let out a thunderclap of a laugh.  She had to admit that she loved the fondness in his eyes when he looked at her, the slight tilt of the head that he had when he considered her, before steering his horse a little to the left to avoid a tree in his way.  

“And what do you want, my Lady Romanov?” Thor asked, voice low as he sidled his horse back next to hers.  She just shot him a secret smile before urging her horse to go faster, pulling ahead.  Sure, she regretted it moments later as the ache in her thighs intensified a touch, but it was worth it for his laugh once more.  

“Perhaps I’ll show you some day,” she teased him as she looked back, a wide grin lighting her face up before she turned around just in time to avoid getting hit with a branch.  Whew.  That would’ve sucked.  

 

It was late afternoon by the time they’d stopped riding to make camp, deeper into the woods than Natasha had ever been on scouting excursions. With the horses tied up and drinking from the small stream that ran just beside a small enough clearing in the forest for them to lay down separately, hough Nat was banking on that changing, and Thor strapping his sword to his belt and preparing a small pack of things to take.  

“Are you ready?” He asked with a grin as Natasha mimicked his actions, looking up to grin and nod.  Yes, she supposed she was, unable to deny any longer that she was kind of excited.  It would be nice to see him in action, really in action not just in the training field.  His opponent would be dumb and likely unpredictable, and to see him react under pressure and necessity would be an added bonus to what she hoped to accomplish later.  She stuck close as he moved through the forest, pushing through the foliage with ease, making sure to bend back branches so Nat wouldn’t have to duck underneath them, all the while keeping more silent than she ever thought he was capable of.  It was as though he was a different person entirely out in the woods, as though he’d left the boisterous Thor behind at the palace and instead traded him in for a huntsman, one so familiar with the woods he might as well have lived there.  She admitted that she was severely taken aback by the quiet between them, and yet as the moments passed she allowed herself to relax.  To breathe deep the scent of the forest, the hum of the energy within it, and feel like home.  If Loki’s winter skin had made her feel like she was back in Russia, this reminded her of the Red Room, of the constant times she’d stayed outside, familiarizing herself with the forest to ensure she could lose someone within it if she had to.  Ivan had insisted on it, wanting each agent to know the ins and outs of the forest so that no Aesir could track them down if they were ever followed, and Natasha had followed his instructions to the letter, especially after Alexei died.  

She couldn’t think of that now, she chided herself, forcing her attention back to the muscular man in front of her, who’d just stopped.  The beast that stood before them looked more like a dragon than any animal Natasha had ever seen; huge, scaly, yet with the antlers of a prize buck.  It was gnawing on the bones of what must’ve once been a small rodent, if the long tail was a sign of anything, but as they watched Nat could feel Thor begin to vibrate with energy and excitement.  She’d heard of him talk about these creatures before; they were stupid and their teeth venomous, but they were quicker and made the victory that much sweeter when they were eventually caught.  She swallowed down the beginnings of fear, letting the bitter taste slide down her throat and collect in her stomach.  The beast stopped eating, the last mouthful of bone crunching beneath huge teeth, as it stared with blank black eyes out towards them.  With slow steps, Thor slid forward, not even rustling the leaves that littered the ground as he moved.  Much as she hated to admit it, Nat could probably learn a thing or two from him, and so watched with a keen eye as he slipped closer, boxing the creature in.  Before he could make a move, though, it got a whiff of something and let out a high-pitched snarl before barreling off, the remains of its meal left behind.  Quick as could be, Thor threw one of his many knives after it.  Nat watched as the blade stuck itself between two huge shoulder blades, causing the creature to shriek once more and turn back, eyes narrowed and murderous.  As if it hadn’t been terrifying before.  This was nothing she was prepared for.  Nothing.  This was a monster, but Thor set upon it like a dog in heat, barreling after its huge form and tackling it to the ground.  With wide eyes Natasha watched him wrap one huge arm around its mouth and hold tight, his free hand grabbing another knife and making to stab it into the creature’s eye.  It shoved back at him with talons thick as Natasha’s wrist, slashing at the arm that held its mouth closed.  Thor shouted in pain and Nat surged forward.  She’d been equipped with a bow and after notching the arrow in it took aim and let it loose, watching it stick the beast in the eye.  Its limbs lashed out, nearly catching Thor by surprise if he hadn’t dropped down from where he’d held onto it and unsheathed his sword.  The long blade found a home in the soft underbelly of the monster, who shouted once more, teeth bared and about to snap when Natasha let a second arrow go, this one driving the head of the first deeper into the skull and hopefully into the brain.  

It fell to the ground with a dull ‘thud,’ loud enough to make Natasha’s bones ache as she ran to Thor’s side.  He was already reaching to unsheath his sword from its place in the monster’s body as Nat pulled out a healing stone from the satchel at her side.  She’d been right to bring them.  

“I’m fine,” he said with an easy grin as he looked at her, trying to brush away the stone.  True to his word the skin was already beginning to mend, but she’d rather be safe than sorry and spread fine dust of the crushed stone over what was left of his wounds.  

“Now there won’t be any scars,” he half teased, cupping the side of her face to kiss her deeply, body pressed firmly against hers.  Ah, so there was a certain adverse side effect to him fighting.  Good to know, she supposed, pulling away with a quiet groan.  

“Really, Thor?”  She asked, one eyebrow rising.  “Is that all you think of?”

“You have that effect on me, Natasha,” he purred against her lips, sliding his hand further towards the back of her skull to lace his fingers through her hair, begging her to kiss him again.  But she didn’t.  She put her hands on his chest and gently pushed him back, shaking her head.  

“Show me what you do now that you’ve taken down the bilgesnipe,” she smiled as she looked from him to the beast, then back again.  Honestly, priorities.  

 

As terrifying as the animal had looked it tasted pretty damn well as it was roasted over an open fire, she had to say.  Thor had taken her words to heart and shown her had to break down the creature, and after dusting it with a fine powder, the excess meat, scaled hide, and bones were transported back to Asgard to be taken care of.  “Much easier than lugging the remains around; it’d give our location away before I could show you what else the forest has to offer,” he had said with a broad grin.  The same grin played on his face as he watched her try and eat the portion of meat he’d given her without making a mess.  

“Are you that afraid of ruining your pretty tunic?” He teased, leaning back against the tree behind him, the flames playing on his face as the sun began to settle in for the evening, a few of its last bright rays peeking above the treeline as the pink hues it left behind were slowly swallowed by the oncoming darkness.  She threw one of the extra bones at him, smirking when he tried to block it and missed entirely so that it thudded dully against his head.  Heh.  

“Brat,” he shot affectionately.  

“Oaf.”

“You sound just like Loki when you call me that,” he admitted with a laugh, missing Natasha’s moment of panic.  She really had to start making an effort to isolate herself from the effect Loki seemed to be having on her.  “Why was it you didn’t want him to come with you?  He has not been pestering you, has he?” Thor asked, his back straightening slightly.  Before Nat could answer no, he was perfectly fine, he soldiered on: “I know he can be a little much with all of his antics and tricks.  He has pushed many people away, but it is simply how he shows his talents.  He’s clever, far cleverer than most I’ve met.  Excluding you of course,” he added with a wink that Nat had a feeling was supposed to feel like a compliment.  She couldn’t help but want to laugh, and he took her smile as a good sign.  “But he means well.  However convoluted the origins of his actions are, they stem from the goodness I know is within him.  Deep down,” he added with a soft chuckle.  Nat felt her heart ache.  How could Loki fear his brother would turn against him?

“You’ve been looking out for him a lot, haven’t you?” She asked, voice quiet as she put down her food, no longer hungry.  He nodded, looking up at the thin canopy of trees above them.  His breath came out as fog and Nat watched it curl and close in on itself before settling her gaze on his expression.  

He licked his lips, tasting the words before they came out.  “I have.  He’s the wily one, the one who will always have the last laugh and the greatest come back but I fear it’ll get him into nothing but trouble.  I try to teach him how to defend himself, and I understand that he has his magic, but I worry.  I worry one day it may not be enough, that something will happen and he will forever be damaged for it.  That I cannot protect him from himself, even.”  He let out a huff and closed his eyes.  For one moment, one startling moment, she watched him age about ten years in front of her eyes, the weight of his worry and fear for his brother deepening the lines on his face until they would be nothing more than trenches for the tears to come.  Nat’s heart sank with the realization, and quietly she moved to his side.  Her hand took his, fingers laced through his own, and he squeezed without a moment’s hesitation.  

“I love him, and I know he loves me.  We’re brothers, impossible for us to think any differently of one another than in shades of love and hate,” he admitted as his eyes fluttered open.  “I just hope one day he does not get them crossed.”  

Natasha did, too, and the kiss she pressed to the back of his hand said just that.  He smiled and pulled her into his arms.  They slept like that for the whole night, Nat tight and nestled into his embrace, unable to help herself from feeling safe.  Secure.  Almost as though somehow Thor’s love for his brother extended and wrapped her up, too.  It was too bad, she reminisced as she woke up the next day, that it couldn’t last.  She shifted in his grip, trying to figure out how the hell it was that something was poking into her thigh before her mind caught up with what was going on.  Ah.  She looked back at the man behind and beneath her, watched the slight furrow in his brow as she shifted against him, putting light pressure on his already hard cock, watched his lips part to allow air to escape.  

Then was as good a time as any, she supposed, and better for it to be on her terms than his if she was honest with herself.  It would only help her feel more comfortable with it.  After what had happened with the guards, and what she was doing to the two brothers, the concept of full out fucking either or both of them turned her stomach slightly, but she was beyond choice.  She’d come this far, after all.  She wriggled down his body and out of his grip, careful not to wake him up as she moved.  One of her hands slowly worked at the laces of his pants, having nearly mastered the trick to loosening them from all her experience (as if that made her feel any better) and in no time his cock was out.  He’d just opened his eyes, the cold air against his skin waking him up, when Natasha swallowed him near whole.  He gasped, head tipping back as his hips surged upwards, nearly choking her, but she’d prepared herself for that and took him, inch by inch, until her jaw ached and her eyes watered.  

“By the--Natasha?” He asked, voice hoarse and one hand reaching out to her, to stroke her hair and feel her, to make sure she was real.  She just grinned up at him from around his cock, humming as though to say good morning, while he just groaned at the sensation and tried to relax.  She straddled his legs, keeping them together as she felt the heat pool between her own, while her tongue traced patterns over his heated flesh, flicking up against the vein running just under the head so he groaned, before she sank her mouth further onto it.  No stranger to how skilled she was at sucking his cock, Thor let her take control, the hand grasping her hair holding a little tighter as he felt himself drawing closer to the end.  His breathing turned to panting, then into a loud groan as she pulled away, fist lazily taking over where her mouth had left, assuming that her jaw had gotten tired and she’d either have him finish himself or find another way.  

He hadn’t been anticipating her standing and stripping out of her own pants, ignoring the pain of her still sore thighs, to straddle his hips with her legs, the head of his cock positioned just below her entrance.  His eyes doubled in size, but before he could ask whether or not she was sure she pressed her lips hard to his and eased herself down onto him.  It was near impossible to keep from wincing, her sex not accustomed to accommodating a man of his size, but she forced herself to calm down and focus on the way he filled her, hit every perfect spot within her so she was shaking by the time he bottomed out.  Or maybe that was his tremors that were simply making her quake as he forced himself to keep from thrusting back, allowing her to take control.  His eyes were glazed and their lids heavy as he stared at her, jaw clenched and hands anchoring themselves at her hips.  She smiled and leaned in to kiss him, her tongue slipping between his lips as she pressed him back against the tree, circling her hips in small rotations to grow used to the feeling of him inside her.  She was right, it had been way too long since she’d last had a lover--was that what he was?  She couldn’t think of a better way to put it, she supposed--and the pleasure as exquisite as it laced itself with the pain and stress of accepting his body into hers.  

“Na-tasha,” he hissed as she pulled away, lifting herself an inch or so off of him before bringing herself back down, her own soft cry echoing between them.  She just grinned and rolled her hips once more, distracting him by the subtle shift of her body as her hands came the shift she’d slept in and pulled it up and over her head so her breasts could sway in front of him, heavy and tantalizing enough so his hands left their posts to fondle them, bringing each one in turn to his mouth to lavish attention on her nipples.  All the while she moaned and arched her back, leaning far enough that she could lay her palms against his thighs and use them as leverage to push herself up and down his cock, whimpering with each thrust of his that matched her own.  The pain had ebbed, pushed away by the pleasure pooling in her stomach and heating every inch of her body so that as she felt herself growing nearer she repositioned her body to seat herself on Thor’s lap, her legs wrapping around his hips. Her mouth found his ear and bit at the shell of it, hard enough to make him growl.  

“Lay me down and fuck me,” she hissed.  “Please, Thor--I want you to fuck me.  Hard.”

He let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a snarl of appreciation as he hoisted her into his arms and had her pressed on the soft grass beneath them.  He pulled himself out from inside of her, much to her displeasured groan, but half a second later he’d slammed himself so hard into her that she swore she saw the nine realms in front of her, the lights in the back of her eyes bright enough to blind.  He didn’t stop after that, either, one of his hands moving her own to take hold of his shoulders and warning her to hold tight as he slammed into her again and again.  She’d asked for it, and couldn’t have been more grateful for the fine line between pain and pleasure.  It helped ground her, helped her remember that through the oncoming waves of pleasure there was a motive.  It allowed her to tip her hips upwards, to thrust back against him and meet his every movement with an answering one of her own.  Before too long they were both careening over the edge, Nat’s thighs wrapping around him as she tightened around his cock and milked him for all he was worth until he spilled out from within her.  If not for his arms having moved to frame her body he might’ve collapsed on her, but as it was he simply rolled to the side, pulling her with and holding her tight.  She listened to his heart beat and imagined she could hear it calling out her name, imagined it was allowing itself to get more and more ensnared by her.  She grinned, and though Thor saw it he thought it simply from their coupling (which, she did have to admit, was spectacular.)

“You are exquisite, Natasha,” he murmured against the top of her head, reaching one hand down to pull her lips up to his.  “Can you hear how my body sings for you?  Only you have made me feel like this.”  

She chuckled and looked up at him, amused.  “How many wenches have you used that on before?”

“Many, but you are the first lady it has ever held true for,” he assured her, brushing a lock of red hair away from her eyes before cupping the side of her face and kissing her so forcefully it was as though he was trying to pull her soul from her.  She might’ve given it, too, allowing herself to melt in his embrace, trying in vain to remember that somehow this was all an act.  Wasn’t it?  

 

They coupled every night after that for the three extra days they stayed in the forest, sometimes more often than the once, so that by the time they were on their way back to Asgard Natasha wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to walk straight again.  Even the horseback riding on the first day felt more comfortable than the soreness between her legs, but she ignored it in favor of a glow only a well-done mission could give her.  Thor mistook it for her happiness at their coupling.  

To her immense misfortune so did Loki when he met them at the edge of the forest, his face blank save for the twitch in his jaw Natasha had seen preface a brutal attack once directed to a man who thought it clever to insult the prince behind his back.  They’d had to scrape what remained of him from the dirt.  Her heart sank as his green eyes met hers, guarded and accusing her of the worst at the same time.  

“Thor, mother wishes to see you,” he said, voice empty of emotion.  “I was told you’d both be here.  The Warriors Three are back as well.  Two days ago.”  

Ah, well there went her brilliant scheme.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the first scene is inspired by Don Jon for Jessy, who wanted a Blackfrost-y version of that, and I'm not about to deny her anything. Hope you liked and thanks for reading!


	10. Daring Me With Another Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I chaptered, couldn't help it. Hope you like and please forgive the mistakes!

Loki didn’t talk to her for a few days, and Natasha did her best to act as though it didn’t hurt.  It did, though.  It hurt like a bitch.  Simply sugar coating it and saying that he didn’t talking to her was an understatement; he couldn’t even be bothered to look at her, turning the other way anytime he saw her anywhere near the vicinity.  He’d stopped turning up at training, even at feasts where he knew he’d be there.  Sif had come to ask Natasha what happened but she’d simply stated that she didn’t want to talk about it.  The goddess at least knew better than to press her matter, but it wasn’t just Sif that noticed.  She’d do her best to be the bright fucking ray of sunshine Thor expected her to be, with his arm wrapped around her middle, no regard for her desires to keep their relationship--or whatever--as private as could be, but the moment he left?  He might as well have left the storms he controlled in his wake, her mood souring immediately after.  She grew tougher on herself in the ring, hating herself for letting her emotions get the best of her, yet the more she thought on it the more enraged she grew until she was going for blood, not just for the experience of the fight.  More than once she’d been scolded, then yelled at, and eventually punished for disobeying Ulfir’s orders, and her marks still bore the bruises from being used as the training dummy by the other guards.  They faded quickly because she was an Aesir, but for the two weeks that followed she could barely lay down.  What was worse she’d been given all night shifts as an added penalty for lipping off to Ulfir the next day, and every evening would patrol until sun up, grab an hour or so of sleep, then wake up to repeat the same process.  

Add onto that Thor wanting to visit her on the rare day she got off and Natasha couldn’t find a way out, or a way to fix things.  She was too sleep deprived, too exhausted from keeping up pretending she was alright.  She wanted to go home, but every time she brought it up to Thor, thinking that the exhaustion in her voice or the begging would get to him he’d only sigh and squeeze her tight.  

“This is your home,” he’d repeat on more than one occasion, and each time Natasha felt her heart sink a little lower.  She’d gone about this the wrong way, but it wasn’t about apples anymore, or Ivan, or even going back to the Red Room.  She longed for Earth, for the winters that covered her home, the freedom to walk with her mother through the town, the ability to choose what she wanted to do that morning.  She was lucky to be alive, yes, how many times had she told herself that?  When the uncertainty of what awaited her back on Earth loomed heavy over her head she tried to fall back on her appreciation for life, the fact that she had been spared.  But there were too many days when it just didn’t come.  

 

She pushed back the traitorous tears as she tried to focus once more on her breathing, on the steady gush of oxygen in through her nose and out through her mouth, as though somehow the monotony of it would keep her tears at bay.  The training session had been a disaster, her mind on a whole other planet as she tried and failed to block swipe after swipe of her partner’s blade.  Thor had tried to step in, not that anyone would object, but she’d pushed past him.  She didn’t want his sympathy unless it could get her something, and as long as he stayed resolved to not give her that then she would keep pushing him away.  Counter productive, but then she could never think well when her heart was so heavy.

“Natasha?”  

She froze just outside her door, fingers inches from circling the handle, Loki’s voice surely a hallucination.  Cautiously she rubbed at her eyes, doing her best to make it look as though she hadn’t been crying, before turning around.  He stood in the hallway and the concern that deepened his brow was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.  Swallowing hard she turned away to fumble once more with the lock on her door, the tears flowing heavily down her face as she tried to breathe.  Asshole.  What the hell business did he have being there anyway?  He’d been ignoring her for the better part of half a month and now, on that day of all days, he had to stop and develop a taste for Natasha’s company?  

His hand felt familiar on her shoulder, painfully so, so when she ripped her shoulder away from him it stung like a blade.  No.  He didn’t get the privilege to see her cry, to see her broken down.  No one did, but especially not him.  

“I offered you help in determining whether or not you had seidr,” he said, voice quick and quiet, meant for her ears alone.  She stiffened, having just pushed the door open but caught between wanting to disappear away from him and stay out of curiosity.  What the hell brought this on, and was he really about to offer her help still?  Why?

“You did,” she agreed when he kept silent, nothing but the sound of their breathing between them, his nearly as ragged as her own, as though he was suffering through just standing next to her.  Was that how it was, really?  Then why did he bother wasting his time with her if it hurt him so much?

“I keep my promises.”  

That was a lie even she could see through.  How many times had she watched him break oaths to those around him, both important and trivial?  She swallowed hard, bringing the back of her hand to wipe away her tears, suddenly furious.

“I don’t want your sympathy,” she snarled, turning her head slightly to the side, words coming out more bitter than she’d intended.  He gave the quietest of laughs, picking at the scabs of her heart.  

“I know you don’t.  I’m not giving it to you.  I’m sticking by what I said, Natasha.”  Again, she felt his hand hover towards her shoulder before it eventually fell to his side.  She swallowed thickly, mind trying to process why the hell he would offer her the same chance as before.  He didn’t owe her anything, hadn’t made any note that he’d listened to her apologies when she’d offered them before, and still he stood behind her, at her most vulnerable, and she let him.  

She let him.  

That was enough to make her hands clench into fists.  She was getting weak, and he was making her weak.  She should’ve cut him out.  Should’ve pushed him away and isolated herself in her room until she could pull herself together and rebuild from the bottom up.  He reached out to caress her cheek and she found herself leaning into his touch, unable to help herself, the cool feel of his skin more comforting than the softest of blankets.  

“If you are interested meet me in the study tomorrow night.  You’re not on duty, I already cleared it with Ulfir.  If you aren’t there by half after nine I’ll leave and we’ll never bring it up again, but you owe me at least an explanation.”

Hadn’t she tried to give it a million and one times?

“If nothing else I expect to see you for that.”  His tone turned biting as he pulled his hand away from her and left with a murmured pleasantry, sounding as though he remembered himself just in time.  She waited until he was out of earshot to push herself into her room and lock the door behind her, back pressed hard to the wood as she tipped her head backwards.  There was a knock on the door a few minutes later, Steve asking if she was alright.  It was nice of him to care, she thought, as she sent him away with an affirmation that she was just going to get some sleep instead of going to dinner.  She had one last night shift left in her punishment, then it was back to the mid-afternoon ones that seemed like a heaven to the hell of being left with her thoughts in the middle of the night.  The reminder that she’d let Loki in too close came back, squeezing her heart even as she forced herself to calm down and focus.  Magic.  He was going to teach her magic.  She would go, and apologize.  Grovel if she had to.  She hated to, but she needed his trust again.  Wanted him to trust her.  

And maybe with magic . . . No.  She shut those thoughts out.  They were what had gotten her into this mess to begin with and she wasn’t about to deal with them again.  Not just then, at least.

 

“Natasha.  Natasha do not ignore me,” Thor ordered as she tried to pretend she hadn’t seen him.  Her feet locked into the floor, jaw clenched as she pushed down the annoyance that was the first born prince.  He came to stand in front of her, frowning and reaching out to cup her chin.  It was comforting, familiar.  She smiled in spite of herself.  

“What is wrong?” He asked.  “You did not show to dinner, you have hardly said three words to me this week.  What has happened?”  

“I’m just tired, Thor,” she murmured, looking up at him and doing her best to relax in front of him.  What was it about these boys that made it near impossible to be angry at either of them?  She tried to summon up the courage to be angry at him, but there was no one to blame but herself.  She, alone, had engineered the situation, and played the two boys as only she knew how.  Yelena had prepared her to use her body to her greatest benefit, but never how to cage her heart fully and keep it safe from the shrapnel that came after the attack.  “I’ve been on night watch--.”

“For the past week or so, I know.  I’ve seen you each evening though you failed to notice me.”  The crease in his brow told her it wasn’t a familiar feeling, and not one he cared to repeat.  She couldn’t blame him, but with her heart so weighed down it was hard to even pretend.  “Is Ulfir being unfair?  Shall I talk to him about it?” Thor asked, tipping her head forward so he could kiss her forehead.  

She shook her head quickly.  “No.  You’ll just be showing favoritism.”

“But I wish to.”

“Don’t, Thor.  It’s getting me into trouble as it is.”

He clenched his jaw.  “With Loki?”

Yes.  And more than that it was distracting her, and distracting the others.  “It will make me look like I cannot handle my life myself, that I require your assistance for everything.  I do not wish it to seem so.”  She sighed and pulled him into a more private corner.  “And I do not wish to cause a rift between you and your brother.”

“Because Loki cannot accept that you favor me to him,” Thor clarified, his eyes flashing and face darkening.  This was going downhill very quickly.  Natasha shook her head and leaned in to kiss his cheek.  He calmed down beneath her touch, though it was easy to see his anger simmering very near the surface.  

“Do not concern yourself with that,” she promised, trying to think of a way to get off of the subjet as quickly as possible.  She needed another way to distract him.  “It is a rough time for us all with your father in the Odinsleep.”  

Beneath her hand Thor seemed to deflate, nodding his head mournfully.  “Mother is unsure when he will awaken.  Though I would be king in his absence I find myself not wanting it.  The responsibilities, the duties.  They seemed once something to look forward to, but now they would keep me from what I wish.”  He sought her gaze and she held it, forcing herself not to freak out.  He better not be alluding to what she thought, yet with his eyes as locked onto hers as they were, his hand wrapped as tight around hers, there couldn’t be any other meaning.  

“You hardly know me,” she murmured.  “You’ve bedded dozen of women, if not more, in the past.  Do not think I am anything different.”

“But you are different--.”

“Because I was mortal?” She snarled, turning it back around him.  He was much easier to handle when he was attempting to make up for something he’d done.  In the back of her mind she wondered if Loki made the same assumption about her.  “Because I came here against my will and now suddenly I have your interest?  Leave me alone, Thor.  I need to get back to work.”  She shoved him away from her, a dangerous move as he reached back out to grasp at her shoulder.  She wouldn’t let him get in another word, though.  “I don’t need your sympathy or your false compliments about my parentage, my race, or why you think it is not the reason why you are infatuated with me.  I’m new, I’m different and I don’t put up with your crap.” She poked him in the chest with every word, watching as his expression grew from confused to mildly worried, allowing himself to be pushed back a few inches as she advanced on him.  Good.  She wanted him to be apologetic.  If she had to beg for forgiveness from Loki, then dammit Thor owed her the same.  

Right?  

He looked like a trodden on puppy dog, she had to admit, staring down at her with sorrow in his eyes and his arms useless at his side.  Oh she hated it when he gave her that look.  She bit back an apology as she kept the intensity in her gaze up as she looked at him.  “I mean it, Thor.  I don’t want your pity, I want your respect for what I’ve done on my own merit, unless you wish to tell me you had something to do with me getting chosen as part of the guard.”  If he did . . . well she really didn’t want to know.  He shook his head, one hand reaching out to take her own, bringing it up to his lips.  

“I didn’t mean to offend, my lady,” he said, the usual boom of his voice tamed down to a low murmur, a whisper of the true passion he held inside him.  She wished it didn’t relax her, or make her want to trust him.  “Might I explain my purpose behind all that you have accused me of?”  

She hated him for that look.  With a quiet sigh she peeked her head out to look either direction.  “Walk with me, will you?” She asked, forcing herself to phrase it as a question rather than a demand.  He might’ve been tame then but she still had to think about her neck being on the line if she really ended up making him mad.  It was a truth she was still having a difficult time coming to terms with, that she was replaceable.  He nodded and kept pace with her, knowing better at least than to reach for her hand or arm as he might’ve on a different day.  She was grateful for that, and forced herself to relax as she paced, listening to the soft sounds of their shoes on the tile and their mismatched breathing.  She could all but hear the cogs in his head turning as he fought to find the right word, and she smiled in spite of herself.  Again, just like a puppy. He was so eager to try and make up for what he’d done, even if he didn’t understand wholly the ramifications of his actions, and again she couldn’t be mad at him when she’d brought about the whole thing.  

“I hope you will forgive whatever made you think that I was simply interested in you because of your initial mortality,” he finally started after they’d paced the same hallway outside the armor vault a dozen or so times, the normally boisterous man finally having found his voice.  “Natasha your strength is what is most attractive.  Most compelling.  I fell in love with your spirit.  Even while you were in the dungeon you were stronger than imaginable.  You and Rogers were the most resilient, but though he resented his position you looked as though you rather enjoyed it.  You were there because you wanted to, and it worried the Allfather, but intrigued me.  And Loki, I suppose.  Perhaps his interest in you is my fault; I have a knack for flaunting what I am most proud of in front of those I wish to be envious.”

She doubted it, though his explanation warranted a question.  “Why do you do that?  Do you like making your brother feel less important than you?” She asked, gaze turning judgemental.

“No.  Do you have any siblings?”

She shook her head.  Any chance she might’ve was destroyed when Stalingrad was obliterated.  

“Think of it as if you have someone who you love, who you’d do anything for, but at the same time are in constant competition with.  You know that they have your best interest in their heart, and you have theirs, yet at the same time everything is counted as adding to one side or the other.  Each of your actions is tallied and added to the count, each of your possessions or affections is scrutinized.  To have something that the other does not means you were smarter, quicker, faster.  The competition is everything.  I love Loki, he knows that.  But I care for you as well and I’m not about to let him take you from me simply because he wants what he cannot have.”

But there was so much more to it than that, she was certain.  She hoped.  The thought made her gut knot and her palms sweat and shake.  

“And what if he cared for me?”  

Thor stopped, whirling her around with one hand on her shoulder.  His gaze leveled with hers and she read the insecurities rising in the pits of them.  

“Has he made you any promises?  Any attempts to take you from me?”

“Thor,” Natasha gritted out.  “I’m not a possession.  I cannot be taken away like a toy is.”  She yanked her arm out of his grip.  

“But you did not answer my first question.”  He sounded desperate now, his jaw clenched and fingers twitching by his side, as though wishing he had Mjolnir to weigh in his hands.  

“Even if he had it’s not really any of your business, is it?” Natasha asked, and it was her turn to grow defensive once more, stepping away from him.  “I fail to see how any of this pertains to you, Thor.  If I spend time with you, Thor, it’s because I want to.  If I choose to do the same with Loki then it’s for the same reason.  I’m not an object to be waved in front of your brother, to tease and taunt him over, nor am I something to be claimed like a damn plot of land.  Now I have to keep working.  I’ll see you in the morning.”  She barely managed to grit out, the hand on her spear dangerously tight, and she could feel the wood splinter slightly beneath her hands.  Before he could so much as apologize she turned and left, not wanting to deal with him any longer.  It was just going to make her more angry and the last thing she wanted to do was burn a bridge with the heir of Asgard, even if he was being a prat.  

 

Natasha made sure to get to the study a good half an hour early, not wanting Loki to think she wouldn’t be there at all.  Her stomach hadn’t settled all day jumping into her throat any time she saw the prince before she’d force it to calm down and she’d try and settle her mind on something that didn’t make her so nervous.  Why was she so nervous, anyway?  She sat herself down at the same table he’d sat in before, when he’d paged through the books in his Jotun form and thought her not coming to see him.  

What if he didn’t come?  The thought had popped up more than once earlier that day, and though she’d tried to ignore it as best as she could it was hard to when she was so certain he still hated her.  He had every right to be mad at her.  She’d led him on, partially yes, but still had done it.  At least she’d never betrayed his trust, she supposed, not having told a soul about how she’d found him in this room.  She never would.  Restless still, she stood once more and made her way towards the bookshelves.  Most of them seemed to be in a language far too complex to understand, even though Ivan had been sure that she spoke many herself, but their gold-embroidered spines seemed too interesting to not touch.  She ran her fingers lazily down the titles of those on the same height as her eyes, feeling the way their letters curved and crafted a first impression even without knowing the name of the book.  One, with particularly loopy writing, caught her attention and she pulled it by the deep blue spine out and into her hands.  It seemed warm to the touch and with a shred of devil may care curiosity she cracked it at a random page.  

From its pages exploded a shower of fireworks.  Actual fire.  Shit.

She slammed the book shut and started stamping out what she could of the fire that had latched onto the wooden floor.  Oh no no no--this seriously couldn’t be happening--.

The fire stopped a moment later, sucked up into whatever surface it had latched itself onto as the scorch marks on the books and wood of the bookshelves healed themselves.  She turned back to see Loki’s lips curving into a smirk.  

“Fire casting?  You thought you’d try with that?”

“I didn’t know what it said,” Natasha confessed as she gingerly picked the book back up and returned it to its place on the shelf.  “It, ah, just looked interesting.”  

“Yes, interesting enough,” he said with a chuckle as he moved to stand near her.  She felt her heart pick up in speed, though she carefully schooled her face to be as calm as she could get it while he grazed his long fingers over the other spines, as though reading them without having to crack open the books, pausing as he felt each one he recognized.  He leaned around Natasha, who cleared her throat to have him pressed so close to her and offered to move out of the way, but he simply shook his head and grasped at the edges of a deep brown book.  When this one opened a strange green hue radiated from its pages, pulsing as though it had a heart to help it keep time.  Intrigued didn’t cover what she felt as she peered closer to it, amazed as the green light started to fade to a deep red as she moved to turn the page, to touch it and see if it felt as amazing as it looked, but Loki simply shut it.  

“Eager?” He asked, one eyebrow rising as he crossed over to the table.  He’d laid a few things out already: a flat, shallow bowl, a small dagger with a emerald jeweled hilt with a blade made out of gold, and what looked like a few herbs that grew likely in the gardens.  Her mouth went dry with anticipation.

“A little,” she said, trying to play it off with a chuckle.  “Can you blame me for being excited to see if this is even a possibility?”

“No, I suppose you never thought magic possible before.”

“Exactly,” she said with a sigh.  “Can any of the others do it?”

“It is possible.  There are latent abilities within each of you, though few of them will consider the possibility of them existing.”  He stood just in front of the bowl, filling it with the press of his finger to the edge of the bowl.  Natasha felt her eyes grow wide.  She’d seen him use his magic but it always took her breath away.  Her palms began to sweat and she wiped them nervously on her sides.

“How will we know?”  

“The fact that you were able to pull fire from the book tells me that you at least have some seidr,” Loki said, voice cutting, as though she was annoying him.  She bit her bottom lip, keeping silent so he could continue on.  “Now it’s simply a question of how much, as well as what sort.”  He held up his right wrist and pressed three fingers to the pulse point.  A myriad of symbols, much like the ones she saw covering the books, showed up, and though she leaned forward to touch them he pulled back.  

“Don’t.  Each of these has a latent ability, depending on the user.  It depicts the type of magic you were gifted with the ability to connect with.  Frigga has many as well,” he said.  “And yours will develop in the same place.”  

“Will you teach me what they mean?”

He gave her a look that clearly questioned whether or not she’d really just asked that.  Right.  Snarky Loki was what she had to deal with now.  

As he started to rip apart the herbs he’d brought Natasha took a seat opposite him.  “Loki, I’m really--.”

“Save it,” he murmured.  “Tell me how sorry you are after this.  I cannot possibly focus on anything else.”  

She grew quiet, thoroughly chided, and sat back in her seat to watch him work.  There was something incredible about how he moved his fingers, the tips skittering across the surface of the water as he spread the sweet smelling herb onto it, murmuring words in what must’ve been the same foreign language that tattooed the books and he with magic.  She wondered what it was, or if she’d be able to pick up on it.  If she’d have to.  What would the magic do?  Loki had meant it to serve as a way for her to protect herself but . . . perhaps there was more to it than that.  She’d seen him do things she never thought possible; clones, projections, changing one’s shape.  It was amazing.  Would she be able to even consider doing the same thing?  And if she turned out able to would he even bother teaching her after how she’d treated him.  

“Come here,” he murmured and it took her a moment to realize that he was speaking English once more.  With hasty feet she stepped closer and he took her right wrist in his.  Slowly, he drew the edge of the gold blade horizontally across her wrist.  She hissed at the pain but other than the noise made no indication that it hurt, clenching her jaw as she watched him drop the blood into the bowl in an arrow’s pattern.  Rather than disperse as she’d expected it stayed within the same formation.  As Natasha stared on, Loki reached underneath her arm to grab at the book, opening to a page filled with golden, scrawling words, edged with those same symbols.  The longer she stared at them the more like letters they seemed to resemble.  Loki took his time reading from one of the passages, setting the dagger down in favor of using that same hand to heal her wrist before positioning her palm inches above the surface.  The water began to bubble and froth, though the arrow still stayed facing up, and the light coming off the book began to pulsate quicker as Loki took to murmuring the same few words over again.  Natasha felt her heart beginning to speed up with it, the hand above the water shaking.  Loki took it in his own to hold it steady.  

A beam of light surged upwards from the very center, going through their conjoined hands as though it was nothing more than a projection, and though she thought she would’ve screamed in surprise, Loki’s hand squeezed hers tighter she forced herself to remain silent.  Something surged within her, feeling like fire and glass as it burned through her bones and through her very core.  Gritting her teeth together she tried closing her eyes, but at Loki’s urgent whisper in her ear she forced them to open again.  The light was dwindling now, and the pain began to localize at the scar the knife had left, where a deep black circle had formed around her wrist, like a tattoo.  After the beam had faded, three letters were left over her pulse point and Loki chuckled to see them as he turned her wrist over to see.  

“Hagalaz, Ur, and Thurisaz,” he murmured, lips curved in a smirk.  “How appropriate.”  

Natasha had no idea what any of them meant, her eyes fixating on the small ‘H,’ ‘D,’ and the upside down ‘U.’ She had magic?  Her knees went weak and she slouched into Loki’s hold, forcing the sorcerer to sit her down in a seat, his lips pressed quickly to her temple.

“Now you can ask for my forgiveness.”  

She looked up and grabbed him by the hair at the back of his head, pulling his lips down atop hers.  He surged against her with fervor, cupping the side of her face as he moaned into her lips.  They didn’t detach for a moment, a new sort of power and energy surging through Natasha now, made heady and even more intoxicating by her lust.  

“Nice try,” he smirked.  “Try again.”  

 


	11. Your Sacred Stars Won't be Guiding You

By the time they separated Natasha’s mouth was red and swollen, her chest heaving as she looked up at Loki.  The power that surged through her made her feel as though she were on cloud nine, and he hiked her up so she was sitting on the table, her legs wrapping around as he fitted himself between them, the proof of his own attraction to her power pressing hard against her center.  

“I’m sorry,” she breathed as he brought his lips down her jaw, biting her throat as she whispered: “God, Loki, I’m so sorry.”  One of her hands dug itself into the back of his jacket, knotting her fingers in it before he helped her pull it off.  He let it fall to the floor, groaning as he bit her collar.  

“I know.  I know,” he murmured against her skin, hips rubbing up against hers.  She whimpered, feeling her skin practically shoot off sparks wherever he touched it, her teeth gnawing so hard on her bottom lip that she swore she’d draw blood.  She could feel him grin against her skin as he snapped his hips against her, a moan cut from her throat.  She thought she might burn up in his grip, lights searing her vision as she tipped her head back, hands finding the table behind her to prop herself up on as he snapped his fingers and their clothing disappeared between them.  Without preparation he sank into her and she couldn’t find oxygen to breathe, lungs aching, body aching, heart heavy as she stared up at the ceiling then into his eyes as he tipped her face forward.  Shifted.  

Breathe.  

The world came back with a ringing crash in her ears, his lips forming her name, her moans bouncing around the room as he hold her tight by the back of the neck, his forehead pressed hard against hers, breath hot against her skin as he stared into her eyes.  Connected.  Thrusted himself into her like the knife that etched his name into her heart.  Or was that the magic convulsing within her?  

Was there a difference?

She gasped and shouted, cried and broke down in his arms as she came around him, leaning forward as the magic and orgasm crashed, became one and threatened to suffocate her under the wave that was the man in her arms.  He pushed back, teasing the edges until she frayed and came apart again, and again, and again.  He filled her perfectly, her heart, her body, her soul, and she begged him again and again for releases that never seemed to end.  

Her body still thrummed with energy after he laid her down, the objects of the spell thrown to the side, her back arched on the cold wooden table, Loki’s hips losing their rhythm as he slammed into her again and again, cock buried to the hilt, their hands intertwined so tight she was amazed nothing broke.  Her right wrist burned, and one of the chairs set fire beside her as she lifted her hips from the table to accept his seed as it spilled into her, eyes screwed up in pleasure.  

The burning stopped moments later but the fire raged on inside her, deep in the pit of her chest, humming with the subtle energy Loki exuded.  She felt it creeping against her skin even as he pulled from her, felt it in the way he looked down at her with confused, hurt eyes.  She met his gaze with confusion as well.  Didn’t he believe her when she said sorry?

It took some time for her to come down from her high, but the thrum of energy never stopped.  Would it ever?  Slowly she sat up and looked for the clothing that had been so quickly removed.  

“Imagine yourself dressed,” he murmured from where he was standing, already clothed.  As if it were that easy.  She did her best, thinking back to the first gown he’d complimented her on, deep green with an emerald and onyx chestplate that pressed her breasts up as well as protected her.  Her breath caught just as she looked down to see it replicated on her, the fabric the softest of silks and the plate solid beneath her fingers.  Her lips twisted to a grin as she looked up at Loki, whose eyes had softened at seeing her choice.  

“That’s amazing,” she murmured, twirling just to make sure it didn’t whirl away.  She just couldn’t believe that it’d actually worked.  

Loki made a loud noise by slamming his hand on the table, and as it startled her she jumped, her clothing disappearing as though it’d never existed.  Oh, that sucked.  He summoned the clothes she’d been wearing before for her to dress quickly.  “It requires great concentration to keep, or manifest in a way.  Now, sit down so I might teach you.  Please.”  

How could she sit, though, when it felt like she’d been given wings to fly?  She breathed deep as best she could, sitting opposite where he was sitting after she dressed.  Right.  She could do this, even if she felt lighter and stronger than she ever had in her life.  She’d never be weak again no matter who she was up against, never be forced to wait for others to come save her.  She’d been strong enough to fight before, but now?  She could attack--.

“Natasha you must listen to me,” Loki insisted.  His hand reached out to cup the side of her face and to her surprise she lashed out, striking his down.  His eyes widened at the same moment she felt her heart stop.  Oh, God.  

“Loki I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, standing and crossing over to reach out to him.  He let her, though his eyes were somber as she took his hand and pressed her lips to his, seated on the table in front of him.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Magic affects us all differently in turn,” Loki assured her, though his voice was quiet, unsure.  She could feel his energy, tentative and uncertain as it was, as he sat in front of her, not sure what to anticipate.  Apologies stumbled from her lips even as she leaned closer to press her lips to his.  

“You seem to be apologizing a lot,” he teased when she pulled away, though she could sense he was only half kidding.  She frowned, reaching out to cradle his face and seating herself on his lap as she moved.  Not that he was about to complain, she was sure.  

“It doesn’t mean I don’t mean it,” she assured him with a soft voice, trying to smile, to promise him it was alright.  It had to be alright, didn’t it?  “Look, I’m listening now, I promise.”  She said with a smile, leaning back onto the table, holding out her wrist so they could both see.  “Okay.  So these three symbols.  What do they mean?”

He eyed her for half a moment, then nodded and grasped her extended arm gently, lovingly.  She smiled as she leaned in to kiss his cheek, the new magic apparently making her very affectionate, before her forehead pressed to his to watch his fingers trace them all one by one.  

“This one,” Loki murmured as he pointed to the crooked ‘H,’ “This one is hagalaz.”  Here he gave a chuckle.  “It’s fitting that you received this one.  Now, we don’t choose these runes, they’re tied to our own being, to what we represent and therefore what we will become.  What we can control or will learn how to.  I have gotten mine,” he showed her his collection on his wrist, pressing it alongside Natasha’s exposed one, “After centuries of studying.”

“They don’t go away, do they?” Natasha asked, forcing herself to take a breather.  Woah.  Fear was not acceptable.  He seemed to understand though and shook his head, an easy smile on his lips.  “No, don’t worry, they won’t disappear.  They’re yours forever.:

Good.

“So.  Hagalaz,” she ran a finger over its outline with a grin, looking up at him and catching his eye. “H.  What’s it mean?”

“For starters, it means change, though generally change through destruction.”  He caught her eye and smirked.  “You cling to your past and need to make a clean break through the abolition of your obsession with what happened.  It’s a sign of crisis, catastrophe--.”

“Geez, thanks.  You know how to make a girl feel special,” she muttered.

“And the disruptive, chaotic powers of nature.  It’s a good sign,” he assured her with a kiss to her cheek.  She had to restrain herself from kissing him back.  

“A powerful sign.  Not all destruction is bad.”

She thought back to her home, the chaos and pain left in the wake of the Asgardian’s chaos, the agony of seeing her home destroyed.  Why didn’t she tear Asgard down to the last brick, massacre their homes, then see how good destruction was?

“Natasha, you’re electrocuting me.”  Loki’s quiet voice pulled her out of her mind, the man having let go of her arm.  She murmured another apology.  Whoops.  He was right, she did apologize a lot.  He tipped her head upwards when she looked down, her cheeks flush with embarrassment at how she kept letting the heat and insistency of the magic get the better of her.  

“What about this one?” She asked, pointing to the upside down ‘U,’ though she frowned when he stiffened beneath her.  Uh-oh.  “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Little is wrong.  At the very worst it deals with brutality, inconsistency, and obsession, but at best it promotes tenacity, strength, physical healthy, determination, healing, and endurance.”

She stilled.  Then what was the problem?

“It is also the rune most associated with my brother,” he added.  Oh.  Shit.  She felt him grow cold beneath her, not just physically but emotionally detaching himself ever so slightly.  His magic, too, seemed to simmer just beneath the surface.  She clutched his hand and kissed the back of it.  

“As you said, these chose me,” she murmured.  “Just because your brother and I share similar traits and I was chosen to use those . . . magic properties.  It doesn’t mean I prefer him to you.”  Despite what her personal orders were, though she kicked herself for being such a brat to Thor and taking her aggression out on him.  At least Loki couldn’t detect a lie in her voice, eyes widening with the truth of her statement.  

“I’m not cross with you,” he assured her.  “Simply finding it ironic.  The last one, though,” here he grinned, his elation bleeding into her emotion.  “Thurisaz.  One of mine.”  He traced it with a slender finger, making her shiver.  Oh, good.  She was terrified his brother’s rune would put him off.  “The control over male sexuality, betrayal.”  His hand tightened slightly but she ran her palm over his, easing him to relax. He did.  “Compulsion, but also strength, resistance, chaos--oh yes--self-enthusiasm.  Just to name a few.”  

“Ah, all the fun ones,” she teased, watching as she took his hands to move them back to her own, fingers threading.  He felt good beneath her, his power once more joining with her own, leaving her cheeks flushed and her breath rasping.  How was it he made her feel like this?  “Will I always be this . . . turned on?” She asked, shifting so that her back was to his front, his mouth falling on her throat, kissing his way up it slowly.  She shivered beneath him.  

“Just while your energy is so strong and volatile,” he assured her, bringing their conjoined hand forward.  He held it there, whispering for her to feel the energy as it flowed around them.  Through them.  She felt it through her bloodstream, from the very tips of her fingers to her scalp, to every piece of her that connected with him.  It almost tickled as it rippled over her skin and she bit her lip to stop herself from giggling at the feeling.  She grinned as he instructed her to focus, to try and imagine it as a ball of energy in her hand.  To try and grasp the energy without grabbing at it.  It was hard work, and her brow furrowed as she tried to focus without straining too hard.  It would come easier as she learned, he promised her, but she would have to work at it every day.  Devote at least a few hours of her morning, afternoon, and evening to it.  She nodded and said that she understood.  

“Even without training you’ll be able to feel it, control a portion of it, but it will be dangerous.  It will take a lot out of you, and it will hurt those around you if you aren’t careful.  So you must be.”  

“Of course,” she murmured as she tightened her hold on his hand.  Eyes closing slowly, she tried envisioning it in her head first, tried to imagine what it would feel like as he said, smell like, and her heart soared a little as she felt something heavy fall into her hand.  Her eyes snapped open just in time to see the red ball fizzle, its edges blurring, before it went out completely.  

She whipped around to look at Loki, who smiled and nodded.  That was her!  

 

They practiced for another few hours until Natasha was able to summon a small ball of energy into her hand, Loki assuring her that everyone had troubles with it for the first few days when she’d explained how annoyed she was that they never seemed to last.  The small quirk of his lips told her this wasn’t entirely true.  

“I bet you had it in an hour,” she muttered, glowering as he laughed and shrugged.  

“I’m born with it,” he told her.  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of Natasha.  You just need to work at it until it becomes second nature.  You can do that, can’t you?”

She could, and she would.  He left to speak with his mother, and though Nat thought everything was back to normal she wasn’t sure about it.  He’d said he understood that she was sorry but . . . well, they’d not talked about it.  He’d not accepted or denied her apology, not since telling her to try harder (and she had!  She really had.)  Frustration mounting, she stepped briskly towards the gardens.  Ideally the fresh air would work, would help to clear her head, and the bright sun usually worked wonders on her mood.  The garden was empty, and though she’d not been back there since the day the apples were handed out, she moved easily through the walkways, reaching her fingers out to grasp at the petals of the flowers as they passed.  The energy that had once flowed around her and Loki’s fingertips did the same there, and she smiled to feel it ease around her, dancing between her outstretched fingers and crawling up her wrists, almost as though it was joining with the runes that still decorated them.  She breathed deep and bent down to take in the sweet scent of the flower, grinning as she pulled away and tried to imagine the same ball of energy as she’d been told to before.  

But no.  Nothing happened.  Dammit all.  She swore and strode further away, winding her way through the paths, arms crossed over her chest.  Why wasn’t it working for her the way she thought it ought to?  Failure was not something Natasha was familiar with in any sort of way, nor was it something she particularly liked.  If she was honest with herself it made her skin crawl and it was with great difficulty she managed to keep from rubbing her skin off as she kept on.  Her feet brought her back to the tree with the golden apples, the fruit hanging tantalizingly in front of her face as she took her place beneath it.  She wrapped her fingers around its shining flesh slowly, picking it with a crack she was sure would reverberate through the entire gardens.  

“Excuse me, what’re you doing here?”

She nearly dropped the apple in surprise, turning around to face a guard she didn’t recognize.  His armor was different, darker in color than her own, covering his shoulders first before trailing down into a yellow cape, the helm tall and glinting in the sun’s light.  She bit her lip and hid the apple behind her back, clutching tight to the flesh.  

“I’m just walking around,” Natasha said, forcing her chin higher and her voice to grow stronger in her defiance.  What did it matter?

“No, what are you doing here before the tree?  You aren’t allowed to be here.”  The man’s eyes narrowed and Nat felt her own anger rising.  What business was it of his where she was and what she was doing?  

“Again, I’m walking.  Can’t I be by the tree?  I am an Aesir.  Go talk to Prince Loki if you do not believe me.”  She said with a slight growl in her voice.  The man stepped closer, reaching a hand out.  

“I’ll not bother the prince with petty theft.  Give it back.  You’re not in need of another apple for another ten years.”  

Ten years?  She swallowed hard and tightened her hand around the fruit.  “Go away.  Go talk to Loki if you don’t trust me.”  She could only hope that he’d trust her enough to play along with it, but the guard didn’t seem to care about her excuses.  He advanced further, hand reaching the one that was hidden.  Desperate, she aimed to shove him back, her palm connecting with his hard breastplate.  He grabbed her arm and was about to say something else when there was a flash of light between the two of them.

Pain.  Searing pain.  The light blinded her, took the breath from her lungs, the ability to smell, to even think past the pain that spread through her body.  

Her back hit something solid moments later, and her already empty lungs strained against the extra exertion.  The sky was dark and cloudy above her, a direct contrast to the bright sun she’d been forced to squint in before.  What the hell had happened?  Where were they?  The world tilted around her and she squeezed her eyes shut to try and keep from throwing up from the nausea rolling around in her gut.  The sound of the world around her hit her with a whirl, the sound of rushing cars like the ones that had shot through St. Petersburg, the harsh winter wind whipping her long red hair into her face, the shouts of pedestrians as they asked her if she was alright.  She opened her eyes to see a pair of hands on her shoulders, one touching her temple.  Accents sharp.  American.  

How the hell had she gotten back?  Her left hand clenched tight on the golden apple, still resolute and holding beneath her grip, before she put it out of sight as she sat up with a gasp of breath.  Midgard.  She looked around, not recognizing the bright lights or the faces that shone on them, or how so many of those near her were wearing such strange clothing.  Pants and thin shirts despite the cold and piercings all over.  She’d have been shot by Ivan if she’d done that.  

“Where am I?” She managed to gasp, searching between the three Midgardians in front of her, ignoring how they stared curiously from one to the other, taking in her armor and out of date clothing.  The guard was nowhere to be seen, but she couldn’t concentrate on where he was at that point, couldn’t have cared less.  He shouldn’t have pushed her, shouldn’t have somehow activated her magic.  

Oh hell, she couldn’t concentrate on that right then, either.  

“Manhattan.  November third,” the girl said, pushing her hair behind her ear, Natasha only then realizing it was dark blue in color.   

“What’s the year?” She asked, her stomach dropping as she tried to hold her shaking hands out of sight, tried to hide her fear as well as the apple.  No one could get to that, not before Ivan--.  Ivan.  

“2010,” this time one of the two boys said something, Nat struggling to keep herself from staring as she took in the make up that covered his eyes.  She’d been gone for nearly seventy years.  She’d made it back, but Ivan couldn’t have survived.  It was all she could do to not scream.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too pleased with how this turned out, but here it is kiddos. Now, I realize that there's a ton of information about the runes available, but the info I decided to go with is from this website: http://www.runestones.com/RuneMeaning.htm as well as http://runesecrets.com/  
> I apologize if it's blatantly wrong, but it's what I went with. Thanks so much for understanding, and I hope you liked the chapter!


	12. Breaking The Walls Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Here's another chapter, and sorry it's so short but hopefully the next one will be much longer! Thanks so much for reading, and your guys' comments seriously make my world go round and make writing all the better. Thanks again!

She must’ve been on Asgard for longer than she’d thought within her cell, especially with how slowly their time seemed to move?  It didn’t surprise her at all, she supposed when she thought of it like that.  Well, it at least took the edge off.  She accepted help from the three as graciously as she could, hiding the apple in the jacket she received from one of the men with a murmur of thanks before she was herded into a coffee shop on the corner of the street.  Her heart nearly burst with the smell of coffee and the soft music in the background made it all the better in comparison to the cacophony outside.  Without bothering to ask whether she had money (she didn’t, damn her for being a fool) they ordered her a grande--whatever that was--and once the hot drink was pressed into her hands she was sat down and looked at expectantly.  Oh, right.  Explanations might’ve been expected, she supposed, looking down at her long, leather trousers, half silver breast-plate and deep blue shirt beneath it.  At least she looked the part.  

“So.  Are you an Aesir?” The girl with blue hair finally asked while Nat tried to keep her magic calm.  As if the clothing didn’t give it away.  She nodded quickly, taking a small swallow of the coffee.  It tasted like home, like the late night missions she and Alexei had gone on.  She could’ve cried, holding tight to the heat of the coffee.

“I didn’t use to be,” she added when the girl turned a triumphant grin to the man at her side, the one who’d given Natasha the jacket.  He excused himself as he fished in the apple-free pocket for his wallet, pulled out a ten, and handed it over to the girl.  Classy.  “I used to live in Russia.  A couple decades ago.”  It felt like a lifetime.  “During the war.”

The man gave a low whistle.  “We heard they took prisoners.  Always figured King Odin killed them, though.”

King.  Yes, he was their ruler.  Everyone’s ruler, and soon that would be Thor.  The thought had never hit her like that before.  Strange to think of everyone on Midgard submitting to one ruler.  

“What happened after they won?  When was that?”

“Well, time passes different between the realms,” the third man said, a ring in his nose glinting as he turned to look at the others, the girl laughing at him for remembering.  “We were taught that in class.  Asgardian Politics.”  He grimaced.  “Anyway.  Every ten years or so the two realms align in time, everything slowing down here to make up for the shift there.  That’s when the Asgardians come back to check how things are going.  The queen came back last time and it was as though the days would never end.  It’s why you all live so long.”  There was the ten years again.  Nat thought of the golden apple once more, hidden at her side.  What was it with the Asgardian and the decades, and how was it that they kept popping up?  

“How long is a year on Asgard?”

“Depending on the way the time shifts?” The man with the nose ring pulled a face, calculating, while Nat took another sip of her coffee.  “Maybe between a hundred to a hundred and twenty years here?”  

Her heart dropped.  How was that even possible?

“But with the convergence coming up that’ll change,” the girl said beside him with a shrug.  “In three years the nine realms will all align.  They won’t shut up about it even though it’s forever away.”

Good God, they knew more about Asgard than she did.  Nat sat and absorbed it all, trying to wrap her mind around the information. Steve was going to lose his mind when she told him.  If she ever got back.  

Did she want to?  Thoughts of Loki, of her position as a guard back on Asgard, the libraries where she could learn magic, all of it came back to her. All of it seemed a world away.  She couldn’t imagine the aging process changing just because she was on Midgard.  She could see the world without worry of how much time she had left, without worrying about, well, anything, and she could do it all as she pleased, whatever she pleased.  If Ivan was gone . . . well, she needed to find that out first.  

“The convergence,” she brought up to the trio.  “Why is that such a big deal?”

“The king is supposed to change the time differences between worlds, lessen the gap between the two.  For most that means near immortality,” the girl said with an edge to her voice, her grip tightening on her own cup until the man with the nose ring had to put his hand over hers to steady her.  “For the rest of us it just means more work.  A longer life filled with nothing but the same old routine day in and day out.  Nothing special.”

She understood that.  “And those who want it are the ones with power?”

“Not all of them.  The Avengers are pretty against it,” the man who’d given up his coat said.  The name meant little to Natasha, and she thought it simply sounded like another piece of propaganda to her if she was honest.  She took another greedy glug of her coffee while he filled the silence with a grin.  “Not sure ol’ Tony Stark likes the idea of outsiders playing with laws of time and regular human things.”

Again, the name meant nothing to her.  What had caught her attention were the black cars pulling up to the building, the men in three-piece suits stepping out of them.  She felt her heart jolt a little at the sight, sure that things hadn’t changed so much that men dressed all alike, a few of them wearing sunglasses and likely toting guns, still didn’t bode well.  

“Thanks for the coffee but I’ve got to get going,” she murmured.  “Need to find a way back.”  She wished she had something more to offer them, and instead plucked off a solid gold ring she’d won from a game of cards when she’d first started her guard duty.  That ought to pay them back.  “Keep it.”  

Judging by how the girl’s eyes widened, Nat wasn’t off the mark, but she didn’t have much more time than that to stick around.  Her clothing was a dead give away, and though she had a knife on her person at all time she wasn’t too sure how useful it would be if these men were equipped with long range weapons.  Her fingers tingled, as though reminding her that she had magic, but without knowing how to use it?  And after the last fiasco in which she’d landed back here?  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to try it again.  

They were coming quickly, and Nat hurried even faster, taking one of the back doors that seemed to pour out into another restaurant, the scent of fresh baked bread and meat overpowering her senses for a half a minute before she pulled her head back together and passed through with as little attention to her as possible.  That wasn’t necessarily the easiest thing to do when her clothes were so . . . well, it was nothing like what they were wearing there, not with their tight-fitting blue jeans and even tighter shirts, their hair cut shaggy and their make-up severe.  And here she’d thought the breast-plate might’ve given it away.  Wrapping the coat tighter around herself, she pushed through the door and into the crowds.  She could lose herself in this madness, this neverending stream of people on the sidewalk, sliding past one another with no care for their surroundings.  It was an infiltrator's paradise, and for the first time in a long while she felt at ease in the commotion, hiding as easily within the surging mass of bodies as the proverbial needle in a haystack.  

At least, she hoped.  A look behind her revealed that she wasn’t as tricky as she thought, her skills having gotten rusty from their time spent out of use.  What use was blending in and sneaking around when she was a guard and supposed to be seen?  The men in suits were following closely behind her, though, one of the, with short cut sandy yellow hair and the other with black hair and dark eyes in comparison to the blond’s bright blue.  She clenched her jaw and turned back to try and find another building, or alleyway, or something she could get into.  

“Woah, what’re you doing?” One of the people beside her asked as an arm reached out to grab her before she could walk into the street.  She snarled and grabbed the man’s wrist, flipped it hard enough to put him on his back, and the terrified older man looked up at her, shaking.  

“You were about to walk into the street,” he said as way of explanation, trembling beneath her, eyes fixing on where her other hand was tight on the hilt of the knife at her side.  Shit.  She hadn’t meant to cause a fuss but the way that the citizens around her had started to dissipate, even after she’d let go of the man and he’d scrambled away, was making her an even clearer target.  Heart racing, she pushed away from them all and took off sprinting down the block.  

Thank the Norns for her enhanced speed.  The other two men fell too far behind to even think about catching up, and she full on grinned as the wind hit her face, ripping at her coat and pushing herself further ahead.  She hadn’t figured it would make it easier for her to track, didn’t know just how much technology had changed since she’d been back.  

 

“I lost her at the moment, sir, but I can find her again.  She can’t be hard to trace,” Clint Barton said, touching his comm gently as he eyed the direction that the red headed woman had run.  He’d followed her trail as best he could, between what Coulson had reported to him from the street cams that had caught sight of her, and he couldn’t help but wonder why the hell she hadn’t just disappeared again and reappear somewhere else.  Wouldn’t that make the logical sense if she wanted to get away?

“Did she catch sight of you?”  Director Fury asked on the other side, voice quiet.  

“No, sir.  Nothing more than a passing glance.”  

“Good.  I want to know what she’s doing and why she’s here.”  He said quickly.  “And what it means for an Asgardian to be here.  Understood, Barton?”

“Yes, sir.  I’ll tail her.”

 

She managed to sell her breast plate for a couple thousand dollars, glad for its real gold surface, and while the man was distracted looking at its fine quality she did her best to summon a small ball of power and throw it into a display near another customer.  Idiotic as the man was, he set the plate down and moved over towards the commotion, allowing Natasha to steal the money from the still opened till and take her breast-plate back.  With her back to them she hurried out, cash in hand, not realizing that she was caught on camera the whole while.  

She made it three days like that before realizing she was being followed, and by that time she’d managed to change out of the traditional garb of Asgard.  The apple in a small purse she kept on her at all times, she kept it tight to her body, pretending to fasten the clasp around the waist of her coat as she did, attention kept alert for the sounds of footsteps above her.  He’d been on the above and following for some time, setting her teeth on edge with nerves as she tried to hurry faster through the city.  She’d thought she’d be able to hide there amongst the other pick-pockets and vagrants, but apparently not.  She wondered why the hell he was following her when she hadn’t even done anything wrong that day.  Was it possible that they had found her again?  Her jaw clencehd as she picked up the pace once more, sure that if she tried running he’d find a way to catch her once more.  She pulled off into an alley, shoving herself against a wall to try and look up at him.  Sandy hair, compact bow like those she’d admired in one of the pawn shops, steely blue eyes.  

 _‘Oh hell.’_  They’d found her again.  She watched with somber eyes and a set expression as he jumped to another level of low roofs close enough that if she wanted.  

From her pockets she pulled one of her throwing knives.  With her spare hand she summoned energy, having found it much easier now that she was under pressure ironically enough, and tossed it over at him, doing her best to distract the archer above her.  It worked, but when she threw her knife he managed to deflect it with his bow, notched an arrow, and shot it.  Damn!  His shot barely missed as she turned away at the very last minute to sprint in the other direction down the alley.  There was a low thud and woosh of another arrow flying past her ear, nicking the tip of it.  She could feel the blood filling her ear already as she turned to throw another ball of energy.  She was way off, smashing a window in the process, but at least he had to cover himself in the glass and gave her a half a second advantage.  At least it would’ve been an advantage if the next arrow didn’t pierce her left calf.  She barely bit back a shout as she went down to her knees, teeth clenched while she turned to rip the arrow out of her skin.  It burned, and the edges of her vision were beginning to go blurry as he ran closer.  She threw the arrow back at him with the same amount of force as the bow, but he caught the damn thing, renotched it in his bow, and pointed it at her as he advanced.  

“Don’t fight me,” he said, voice low.  “I don’t want--I don’t want to hurt you,” he snarled, jumping back to avoid the swing of her second knife.  He bared his teeth in anger as he pointed the tip of his arrow at her heart.  

“Hey.  Stop.  I mean it, I’m trying to help you.”  He growled.  “I’m not above shooting you and telling the guys I work for that you made it impossible to bring you in.  You’re not from around here and already I can tell my narcotics are taking effect.  It wouldn’t surprise anyone.”

He was right.  She hadn’t thought it was possible for the drugs to affect her with the power of the Aesir running through her, but there they were, with this man’s face going in and out of focus.  She growled, not saying anything back, sarm shaking as she kept her other hand aloft, knuckles white as she clenched harder.  She watched, ine one of the brief moments of clarity, as his expression softened.  The bow loosened in his grip a little as he heard her.  

“What’s your name?  I’m Clint Barton.”  He offered, voice softening a little.  She hated it.  Hated that once more she was at the mercy of someone else, that once again her life was not in her hands.  

_‘Fuck this.’_

She lunged at him once more, but she hardly made it before her leg gave out and the world blurred and faded into black.  She felt her magic fizzle, but somehow it was muted, as though the narcotics were dampening that, too.  

 

“Got her, sir,” Clint said into his com, having thrown the red head onto his back and hoisted her up.  “Come get me.  Alley between Short and Deerbridge.”

“She come willingly?” Phil Coulson asked him on the other end.  

“Not quite.  Had to take her out with an arrow.  I owe Stark big time for his advice with sleeping arrows.”  

“Don’t tell him that, you’ll never live it down.”

Clint grinned.  “Wouldn’t dream of it sir.  Bastard still owes me boomerang arrows.  Anyway, get your sweet ass over here--she doesn’t look like it but she weighs a ton.”  

“Language, Clint.”

“Yes, sir,” he purred, unable to stop the smile from widening.  

 


	13. Whispered Tales of Gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray next chapter! Hope it was worth the wait, and thank you all so, so much for the comments! They're an absolute blessing and I love getting them =] Super inspirational. Well, enjoy!

Everything was dimly lit when she came to, the room a soft, storm-cloud grey, the cuffs around her wrists made of some sort of ridiculously tight material, not quite fabric but not quite metal either.  They bit at her wrists and ankles when she struggled to lift herself from the hard surface she’d been laid onto, her head turning slowly to take in the plain four walls and door just in front of her.  To her relief she was wearing the same pants and shirt she had been when she’d been shot by the damned archer, and after a minor panic attack about not having her purse or coat, which held the apple, she wetted her lips and considered calling out for someone to release her and wondered just what she’d been put there for.  She kept her mouth shut, though, not wanting to give anything away.  Not wanting to show weakness.

What were they waiting for her to do anyway?  The idea to use her magic flashed through her head, to try and at least blast a hole through something, or cause a ruckus enough to get their attention and try and garner their plans from there, but she was terrified of giving too much away too soon.  She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she tried to remember how to breathe and calm down.  Not to let her fear get the best of her mind.  The training of the Red Room came back, the memories and lessons about how to withstand torture, torment, and all the psychological bullshit that they’d try and throw down her throat.  What was more, she was stronger now.  Could withstand more.  

Not knowing what was waiting for her it was about all that she could cling to.

Her eyes fixed on the corner of the room, gaze catching onto something covered in glass.  Interesting.  Were they keeping an eye on her?  She remembered the cameras that the Red Room had employed, the two wayed mirrors that had been used to watch the every move of their victims both as they were interrogated and before, when their fear had gotten the best of them and made them cry out.  She allowed herself to smirk and faced the camera, tipping her chin upwards.  Let them take that as they would.  Natasha Romanov, Aesir or human, did not take well to intimidation factors.  

It wasn’t long after that that the door just opposite opened after the sound of a lock being undone.  A mild looking man, hair buzzed short and a small smile on his face as he folded a file across his chest and behind his hand, observed her, stood just at the foot of her bed.  

“Good to meet you, Miss. Romanov.”  His voice was soft, easy to listen to, almost begging her to trust him.  She’d never done well with begging.  “My name is Agent Coulson, and I work for a company called SHIELD.  Have you ever heard about us?”

No, and she couldn’t have cared less.  She was interested, however, in how they found out who she was when she’d been gone for so long.  Just how quick had technology changed in the time she’d been away?  She simply nodded her head in recognition, watching as he moved to set the file on a small desk placed beside her bed, a grey-black eagle staring at the ceiling above her.  She didn’t say a thing, allowing him to say his piece.  It wasn’t going to help her to open her mouth then.  No, so long as he kept talking then she could use that against him, find out what they were looking for.  Silence was infinitely better than questions.  

“You’re roughly over ninety years old, aren’t you Miss. Romanov?”

She arched a brow.  That was rather personal, wasn’t it?  He certainly seemed to think so, lips cracking into a wide smile as he observed her.  Really, they were going to start with the questions about her age and how she managed to survive that long and still look that good?

“You certainly don’t look like you’re getting up into your hundreds.”

Ah, right on time.  She gave a nearly silent chuckle as she laid her head back, closing her eyes.  So they were looking for how she’d managed to reach their perception of immortality.  Amazing that they weren’t simply asking whether or not she was Aesir, whether or not she’d come from Asgard willingly, or whether or not she’d been forced here.  That was what she would’ve asked first, to figure out whether or not she was a potential threat, but perhaps they were going about it in their own way.  

_‘Not much for getting answers.’_

She kept silent as he maintained a steady stream of questions, never pushing her for answers or showing if he was frustrated at her lack of them, simply maintaining eye contact all the while with him when she finally brought her head back up.  

“We have people who are talented at discovering who you could be and what you might be hiding, Miss. Romanov.  You’ve met one of them.  You don’t wish to meet the others.”  

She resisted the urge to laugh.  Honestly?  She doubted torture methods had changed much in the time she’d been gone.  Certainly, the tools might be different, the policy on brutality might have changed, but she’d endured her heart being basically ripped from her chest, the loss of her parents and her country, her freedom being obliterated, the man she cared about turning from her.  

What more could this Agent Coulson of SHIELD do to her that she hadn’t either done to herself or had imposed on her?  

He’d stopped talking while she’d been caught in her own thoughts and she focused back in on time to see him press a button close to his jacket cuff.  She focused in on it, could almost hear the electricity hum as Coulson gave her a small smile and backed up, leaving without another word to her.  What did that mean, she couldn’t help but wonder.  What more did they think they could do to her to make her talk?  Without warning she found the straps around her wrists loosening just enough that she could pull herself free, sitting up with care as she stared around, half expecting something to pop out of the corner.  At least there were no shadows; she was sick of things hiding in the dark and coming to get her.  Rubbing her wrists gently she tried to pull the bindings around her ankles free, wondering just how tight their security was and if she could find a way to get through it.  She was sure she’d done many more difficult things.  

Just as she was considering dislocating part of her foot (and would that even work now that she was Aesir or would it heal too quickly?) there were voices that came from the other side.  This one was loud, one particularly snarky as he seemed to push past Coulson without much difficulty, words muffled in the distance.  Natasha went stock still as she watched the doors, the shadows on the other side of the heavily frosted glass not giving her much else to go off of besides the two men being of the same height, the newcomer with significantly more hair than Coulson.  Now that they were closer she could make out what they were saying much better.  

“Look, Agent, I don’t give a damn what cyclops says.  I’ll do what I damn well please, and I want to see her.”

“You don’t have the clearance for that.”

“No, but I do have the clearance to limit my funding and what I generously donate to your lovely Helicarrier.  I do have a choice whether or not I want to be on the Avengers.  I do have clearance to manufacture your weapons for you, and so I very much have the clearance to go and see her.  I want to know what they’re hiding.  It’s big, Coulson.  I’m telling you.”

“Your conspiracy theories are fascinating, Mr. Stark.  That doesn’t mean a thing.  You don’t have the--.”

“Just give me ten.  Ten minutes and I’ll figure everything she’s got planned out.  If I don’t, well, you haven’t lost much time.  There’s still plenty for you to use in order to try and force the answers from her.”  

The pause between them was pregnant, and it took Natasha half a minute to realize that she was sitting forward.  Whoops.  She relaxed as best she could, leaning back onto her elbows, to watch the handle of the door twist as the lock clicked back.  

The man’s confidence preceded him, practically wafting in and irritating the magic just under her skin.  Interesting; she’d never had that reaction before.  His hair was spiky, eyes dark and brimming with curiosity, and he carried a strange scent of metal and heat, as though he’d just stepped from a forge.  Likely a weapons dealer, she decided as she eyed his more than costly looking clothing, the well tailored suit in a deep grey with a tie so silvery it almost seemed alive itself.  What caught her eye as she gave him the up down was the bright blue light coming from his chest, as though he wasn’t completely human.  What the hell could that be for?  She would’ve asked if she wasn’t so stubbornly set on keeping silent.  

Even as he stood in front of her, hands clasped behind his back, she could tell there was no possible way he could be any more different than the man who’d been there before.  Where Coulson had been all neat lines and rules, this man shoved his love for rule breaking under her nose until she thought she might get sick.  At the same time she confessed that it intrigued her.  Was this the infamous Tony Stark who’d been referenced when she’d been in the coffee shop earlier, the one who held little like for the Aesir and Odin’s plan?

_‘At least we’ve got something in common.’_

For the first few seconds he simply stared at her, and she was unwavering as she held it, hands and body loose enough to show that she wasn’t a threat.  Well, not that he knew at least.  

“So, you’re Aesir.  Used to be human once upon a time then poof.  Like a fairy tale you became immortal.  What are you now, a princess?  Handmaiden?” He asked, voice rattling off the possibilities as quick as a gun, each word of his doing little more than solidifying her first assumptions of the man’s arrogance.  “But you’ve been gone for so long bet you think everyone you love is dead.”  Here the corners of his lips quirked as her own face contorted slightly with the recognition.  He could find out for her.  He had the answers, and all he wanted were ones of his own in return.  He reiterated it for her in the silence, assuring her that so long as she scratched his back, he’d do the same to her.  Whatever that meant.  

The message was simple enough.  

“What’s your name?” He asked after she’d nodded her head in agreement.  

“Natasha Romanov.  At least I used to be,” she murmured.

“Born with that name?”

She shook her head.  “Natalia Romanova.  Does the Red Room still exist?”

He grew silent, as though mentally perusing all information for the answer.  Was he some sort of walking, talking super-machine?  Interesting.  “Officially, no.  Technically, yes.”  

What the hell was that supposed to mean?  She gave him a look that clearly stated she wasn’t too pleased with his answer, to which he sighed, leaned back onto the desk that Coulson had left his file on and pushed the papers to the ground.  The distraction was enough for him to bring his thoughts together it seemed, because only after the last one hit did he speak.

“They’re listed as inactive, currently, though there are still Red Room operatives such as Winter Soldier that remain active and on SHIELD’s watch list.  What’re you doing here?”

“I didn’t mean to come here,” she said, the first name meaning nothing to her.  He or she must’ve come around after she’d been captured.  “It was an accident that I ended up back on Earth.  I didn’t know time had passed--well, as much time.  I thought I’d been gone a few months.”

“Do you know about the plans for the convergence?”

“I don’t know a thing.  Ivan Petrovich.  Does he still live?”

Again, Tony Stark grew silent, this time whipping out a small cell phone.  She wondered how the hell that was going to help any, eyes fixing on the small ‘S’ carved into the back of it, before he shook his head.  “Sorry.  Died in combat twenty years ago according to official SHIELD records.  Attempted to infiltrate a U.N. department head meeting.  Went sour all of ten minutes in.”  He held out the phone in case she wanted to verify.  She simply shook her head.

That sounded like Ivan she realized with a heavy heart.  He knew he was shit at undercover work, and a bubble of guilt welled up in her stomach.  If she’d still been there, if she hadn’t gotten captured and brought back to Asgard, maybe she would’ve been there to take the job for him.  She squeezed her eyes tight against the thought, forcing herself to think hard.  She needed to pull it together.  The Stark man was already asking another question, but she didn’t pay attention to it and soon enough he stopped talking, letting her suffer in the silence alone.  Her only father figure, the only one she could remember, was dead.  Dead because she’d been careless, dead because she’d gotten herself caught, dead because she hadn’t been there for him.  It weighed her shoulders down until she had to recline once more, her eyes tightening, brow pinched.  A hand laid itself on her shoulder and she stared up into Stark’s deep brown eyes.  

“Friend?”

“Adoptive father,” she croaked, clearing her throat.  The information he had, get back to that.  Distract him from her weakness.  Never let it show.  “I was hoping you could tell me about the convergence?”

Here there was once more silence, and Tony watched her with a very careful eye, as though expecting her to jump out at him any minute, to double cross him and prove that she, and her new people, couldn’t be trusted.  Couldn’t he see that she was once a part of his own race?  Had she changed so much, been so transformed by the apples of Idunn that recognition of the same species was impossible?  

The one hiding in her absent jacket pocket seemed a terrible idea, then.  She hoped no one found it, fearing the repercussions might force them to treat her as though she were a traitor to them all, as though she were flaunting her own immortality.  

“It only happens every five hundred or so years.  I think.  Dr. Selvig and Foster and Banner can tell you much more about it, the science-y bastards.  Anyway, your king--Odin Allfather or whatever--decided that he was going to use the certain flux and change between the walls of each realm to fixate them all on the same time plane.  Helps so he doesn’t have to subjugate every fucking generation that stands up to him.  Ooops, did I say that aloud?”  He rolled his eyes.  She understood, though, and though she wanted to tell him that she thought it more prudent to let him carry on.  “Oh well, a bunch of fat cats think it’s a good idea to live like fake gods then fine.  I’ve done my damndest to try and make a difference but they don’t listen to me.  They all think I’m crazy, that going to Afghanistan made my head as psycho as my heart.”  

Again her heart flitted to the blue light coming from near his heart, wondering what the hell that could be that gave off so much light.  Vaguely, it reminded her of the blue skies of Asgard, when Thor had taken her out hunting.  How he’d fawned over her, and done everything in his power to make sure she was comfortable, that she was happy.  That he was doing what she wanted him to.  

_‘Oh.’_

“One last thing,” he said, stepping back as he took her in.  “The super soldier serum.  The Red Room did a series of tests on it years ago, got the serum idea and basic make up from a man called Steve Rogers, who’s also been missing the same amount of time you have.  Do you know him?”

She searched his gaze, wondered just how much he knew about the serum.  She nodded.  “He’s up in Asgard.  He’s a friend.”

His lips tightened with the news.  

 

Tony authorized for Natasha to be released shortly after their discussion, citing that he found her cluelessness charming and her eagerness to learn all the more endearing.  “Not to mention she’s quiet, Barton,” Stark had complained to the same archer that had taken Natasha down with the latter right beside him, as though he were talking about a puppy.  “Unlike some.”

“You mean unlike you?” The archer shot back, smirking, though his body was taut unlike Tony’s, who’d relaxed completely around Natasha.  Why?  How did he trust her all of a sudden without some sort of proof that she wouldn’t hurt him?  Granted they’d not given her a weapon, but she could still fight without it.  Hell, she’d told Tony that she was a guard at the palace.  Didn’t that count as anything?  

Apparently not.  Either that or he really trusted her without any sort of reason why.  Well, they’d see how that panned out; as grateful as she was for his help and that he’d gotten her out of that stupid room she wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to get out of there if it came down to it.  Tony led her down the many halls of what he called their Hellicarrier, keeping up a steady stream of conversation as he divested himself of his suit jacket and hung it up in the next room they stepped into, a lab where he did most of his work he said.  

Everything was entirely different than the ones she’d been to in the Red Room and it took her by shock just how much stuff was inside of here.  The one she’d gone to when she’d volunteered for the super serum had been small, consisting of nothing more than cracked concrete walls, a bed that they’d strapped her down to, and a couple tables and machines to monitor her vitals as they tested out her compatibility with the serum.  This?  Well she might as well have stepped onto another planet.  The walls were white, sparse of decoration save what looked like enormous screens (she couldn’t imagine what for) or else huge glass panes that allowed her a look out onto the rest of the Hellicarrier.  What was more, there were computers just about everywhere she turned, and more screens that Tony seemed to be pulling from the walls, his fingers touching their surface lightly to bring up charts covered in numbers and graphs that made no sense to her, yet she curiously watched as Tony worked to highlight certain portions of it, stepping closer in awe.  

“Blueberry?” He asked, pulling a bag of the dried fruit out and offering it to her, though she couldn’t understand where he’d gotten it from.  He didn’t have magic or she’d have been able to tell.  Strange.  She shot him a tight smile and declined as politely as she could muster, every inch of her skin buzzing with a mix of discomfort and curiosity as she rotated slowly on the spot to drink all the rest of the room in.  Norns, what she could do with all this if she only knew how to work it.  How hard could it be?  From behind her, Tony asked a man name J to pull up the information and stats on the upcoming convergence, as well as summon something called ‘Banner.’  Interesting.  She jumped out of shock when a cool British accented voice affirmed the command, whipping around to see Tony suppress a smile.  

“That’s Jarvis, my AI.  Artificial Intelligence.  He runs everything for me and I’m just about useless without him.”  That was about as modest as he got, Natasha could tell.  

“Always your praise is most welcomed, sir,” the voice said again.  

Nat would’ve smiled if she hadn’t been so weirded out by the whole thing.  Disembodied voices?  No thank you.  She didn’t care for them at all.  Tony looked over and smiled at the obvious tension and stress between her shoulders and on her face.  

“He won’t hurt you.  You know, for an immortal you seem really scared of things that might be able to kill you.”  He peeked over the screen he’d been tapping on to meet her gaze.  She stiffened.  

“We can die.”  The words seemed strained.  “We’re harder to kill, but I’ve done it.”

A pause.  Tony tapped at the strange surface, his gaze moving from Natasha as he brought up nine spheres and aligned them.  “Did he or she have it coming?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t press the matter.  The door they’d come from opened again, and Nat grabbed the first pointed object she could reach, a ballpoint pen, and gripped it tight.  Her movements didn’t go unnoticed by the newcomer, his brown eyes a little wide and hands rising to show that he wasn’t a danger.  Curly black hair sat like a mop on his head, and he seemed almost too small to be a danger.  Then again, so was Natasha, and Amora, and many others she’d met.  

“Woah, down Tasha,” Tony said quickly, as though he could control her like a pet.  It was getting on her nerves.  She didn’t for half a minute, but eventually she allowed herself to relax, breathing out slowly as she moved the pen back.  “Please don’t give Bruce ink poisoning.  You won’t like him when he’s ink poisoned.”

The man, Bruce, snorted.  “It’s nice to meet you, Natasha,” he said with a small smile, as though nothing had happened, inching closer until he was certain Nat wouldn’t strike out at him.  Odd how he seemed more nervous than she was, but she couldn’t blame him if his constant company was Tony.  His sudden movements and lack of clear trajectory set her on edge, too.  Eventually he came to stand beside the man, who’d gone back to paying close attention to the screen in front of him, and Bruce snaked one arm around him to poke something on the screen, highlighting a couple portions of it.  The smile on Tony’s face was so intimate, so affection, it would’ve made Steve blush.  

“Jarvis said you wanted me?” Bruce asked.  

“Don’t I always?” Tony asked, turning to face him, still grinning.  “Can you explain the convergence in terms good lady Natasha can understand?  You’re always much better at it than I am.”

The look Bruce shot him asked if Tony was really doing this, if he was so lazy that he had to have someone else explain the phenomenon.  Well, maybe that was just what Natasha thought and projected onto him.  Either way, the purple-shirted man turned the screen around so Natasha could see it and not just the backside.  Tony offered her a seat, but she shook her head, not wanting to be at any sort of disadvantage just in case.  There wouldn’t be a time for her to relax until she was certain of her own safety.  Completely certain.  Something in Bruce’s eyes told her he understood, leading her to wonder just how they’d gotten him there, too.  They didn’t speak of that, though.  Not just then.  Instead he turned his attention to the model being shown on the screen, and she fixed her gaze to it as well.  

“There are nine realms correct?  Well every couple hundred years or so they end up aligning.  Perfectly.  During that time there’s always a flux in the capabilities of physics, time, and all other rules we generally take for granted.  Odin, your king?  For a short while, as they move into position, the lines between realms thins as well, making it easy for magic to start in one realm and transcend to all others.  In this case, Odin means to alter the realities of time for all those realms he has conquered.  All under the dominion of the Aesir will be given extended lives, and though this comes off as a benevolent act to those who wish to live forever, those with more than enough money to last them quite awhile, for the rest of us?”  He sighed.  “Well, I signed on for eighty or so years.  Tops.  I don’t want an extra 4920 years added to that.”

“So why don’t you all propose this to the king?”  Natasha asked when he paused to take a breath, her arms crossing over her chest.  “Or, rather Thor while his father Sleeps.”  

“Sleeps?” Tony interjected, frowning, confused, mouth opened and poised to ask why they didn’t simply wake him up.

Natasha cut him off before he could.  “Yes.  The Odin Sleep it’s called.  Similar to our version of a coma.  When he exerts himself too much, or needs to build up rest, then he falls into the Sleep.”  How was it that they knew about the convergence but not the Sleep?  And what else was Odin hiding from them about the Aesir?  

“Odin will never go for it,” Bruce cut in with a sigh.  “Why bother when aligning the time lines will mean less work for him?  There are always those who will rebel.  Those who fight back against a monarch, who want things to go back to the way they were before.  Here especially,” Bruce said.  “And each time they rise Odin is forced to crush them, not only in Midgard but Vanaheim, and Jotunheim.  With the changing in time patterns, and the constant threat of new generations being taught by those who are suppressed that they ought to fight back, why not act as a benevolent god and give the people what they want?”

“But they don’t want it.”

“Most of the naysayers, the vocal ones?  They’re not around anymore,” Bruce murmured.  “You’re not the first Aesir to be brought down to earth.  As uncomfortable as it was, surely you could understand why we took every precaution sending Clint after you when you didn’t display the same signs as the others.  They wasted no time in locating those who spoke against.  You blended in, thanks likely to your training as an infiltrator in the Red Room, right?”

Natasha bobbed her head, her eyes fixed on Bruce’s now.  Somehow everything began to click together, to make sense, as though she’d been underwater for the past seven months and just now managed to pop her head above, head spinning as she tried to absorb it all.  

“The others were nowhere near as crafty.  That put up a lot of red flags.  But you don’t know anything about this, and though our boss thinks it’s an act, Tony trusts you and . . . well I do, too.”

What was she supposed to say to that?  Somehow a quiet thanks pushed its way from her lips, stomach rolling.  If they thought her a danger, as she’d expected, then the risks that these two men were taking were enormous.  Ivan would never have done it, nor would Odin, or Thor.  Hell, she wasn’t even sure she’d do it.  She bit down on her lower lip as Bruce went on to explain the changes that’d happened since she’d been gone.  All things were monitored on a global scale: food, work, water, rest, military activity.  All of it overseen by the Aesir that remained on the planet, at least three of them per major country, while the underdeveloped ones were forced to trek for miles to reach them.  What was more, Asgard took nearly as much from Midgard as they produced, leaving barely enough extra for the wealthy to purchase as it was.  It might not have seemed bad, Bruce assured her.  “There are a variety of examples where systems like this worked, but it was on a country by country basis, not a global one.  There are still wars, still weapons.  What’s more, we have invaders from other worlds come to test Odin’s hold over Earth.  Tony and myself, and a handful of others including Clint, are what’re called The Avengers.  We try and keep Earth as safe as we can because as much as Odin likes to say he helps, well, the warriors he sends aren’t nearly as much good, and the weapons he offers are the rejects from other armories and other worlds.  It’s not exactly an ideal system.”

“But if everything is distributed evenly, how are there still those with such extreme wealth?” Natasha asked, unable to understand.  

“Old money,” Tony said with a sigh.  “Some make do by selling whatever extra goods they can get their hands on.  I used to make weapons for other realms.  Vanaheim was having problems keeping up with the marauders and space pirates, but after a certain detour in my life I decided against it.  Odin’s not exactly happy with me.”

Nat was sure that, had the king still been awake and knew what she was finding out, he might not have been happy with her either.  Her affection and interest towards Tony boosted.  Good for him, sticking up for himself.  

“And you, Bruce?” She asked, turning to him.

Bruce’s lips turned up in a wry, almost secretive smile as he removed the glasses perched on his nose to clean them.  “I’ve, ah, got extreme anger issues.  SHIELD offered me a job on the Avengers rather than a cage like your Allfather had proposed when I took out a platoon of Aesir that were bothering me.”  

Right.  Well, she’d be sure not to get on his bad side.  She still had a million and one questions when the door behind her opened and in stepped a tall, incredibly imposing figure draped all in black.  Behind him--.

“Loki?”  Nat’s heart nearly stopped.  His lips were drawn in a tight line as he took her in, eyes hard as he stared between her and the two other men she’d been speaking to.  

“We need to talk,” the other figure said, glowering at Natasha despite only having one eye to stare at her with.  Her hands balled into fists and her chin rose half an inch or so.  They weren't the only ones who wanted answers.

 


	14. The Fury In Your Head

Tony tried to insist on going to the meeting, too, but the one-eyed man named Fury--and Natasha knew that name from somewhere, she just couldn’t place it--refused it, leading Natasha and Loki alone to a separate meeting room while Tony just shouted in his anger about being left out.  Nat couldn’t blame him, and though she was relieved to see Loki she couldn’t help but wish for Tony’s presence, too.  More than anything she wanted Loki to hear what Tony had to say.  To verify if he was right.  Just how many of the slaughters had he taken part in, she wondered?  How much of that blood was on his hands, and how much of her own people’s was on her own for not being there to help?  She rubbed her hands on her jeans, as though she could wipe it off.  If only.  

Loki didn’t say a word to her until they were seated within Fury’s office, a large rounded room with a desk, a few chairs, and what looked like mountains of paperwork stacked neatly on the floor, at the sides of the desk, and near a computer.  Well, she didn’t envy him his job.  He offered the pair of them seats before taking his own and fixing his gaze to Loki.  Smart, Nat thought.  Addressing the one who was clearly a higher ranking would definitely get on Loki’s better side.  She wasn’t too sure that he had a good side when he was in a temper like this.  The last time he’d been remotely close he’d released his magic on those who were pestering him and, well, the servants had quite the time trying to scrape them off the floor.  Natasha nearly shuddered at the memory, but kept her gaze down, focused on the way her hands twisted in her lap.  

“So, Prince Loki.  How is it your guard Miss. Romanov got here?”  Fury asked, chair creaking as he leaned forward in it, placing his elbows on the desk.  

“Magic.  A simple slip of her powers; she’s still trying to come to terms with them,” Loki offered, voice cool, fingers steepled in front of him as he surveyed the man.  As on edge as Natasha was with the whole situation, she had to admit it was slightly awe inspiring to watch the two men face off against one another, neither willing to compromise yet expecting the other to budge first.  She’d never known Loki to back down from a fight in which words were the most powerful, yet this mortal didn’t seem to be one who could be trifled with, either.  With a start she realized where she’d heard of him before.  When she’d been training in the Red Room, Nick Fury and the Howling Commandos had been the topic of many hopeful conversations for those involved in the resistance.  They’d done everything within their power, some of them making the ultimate sacrifices, to defeat their foes.  Hard to believe that the same man was sitting in front of her, though she could’ve sworn that, based on the stories she’d heard, he’d been--.

“Miss. Romanov, are you listening to me?”

Her head tipped upwards quickly, Loki stiffening at her side.  

“Apologies, Director Fury.  It’s all been a lot to take in.”  Natasha said quietly, raising her gaze to meet his disapproving one.  She swallowed thickly, not allowing herself to look away.  He might’ve been a living legend to her but she still had her dignity and her own strength.  She wasn’t about to cower in front of him, and behind it all she swore she saw the faintest hint of surprise and admiration.  Good.  She deserved it.  “Could you please repeat what you said?”

“I asked what you had hoped to achieve while you were on Earth.  Why didn’t you seek out the Aesir embassy to return home?” He asked.  

Nat shot a quick sideways glance at Loki, noticed the way he’d tensed up slightly at the question and the way that Fury had phrased it, as though the Director could see past their facade and read the direct problems.  He was good.  “Well, Earth was once my home,” she started, doing her best to be as diplomatic as possible.  “And I was unaware until recently that there was such a thing.”

“So you stole from a total of eight different vendors while attempting to sell your Asgardian armor?” Fury asked, pulling a small file from within his desk and opening it, presenting the pictures of Natasha in different shops.  She remembered all of them, surprised to see that they’d managed to get clear shots of her face.  

“The world has changed quite a bit since you left, Miss. Romanov.  There’s not much hiding left to do, and even less so when you steal.”  He said, voice turning severe as he pushed the pictures closer so that Natasha and Loki could look at them.  The prince took one sweeping look at all of them before he turned back upwards.  

“Are you looking for reimbursement?” He asked, voice empty of emotion, as though this was nothing more than a transaction: Natasha for whatever she’d stolen.  She felt heat begin to rise in her cheeks, not having expected to get caught.  Whoops.  She pushed her reaction back down as best she could, one hand clenching so hard on the armrest of the seat that the metal began to bend beneath her grip.  Fury’s eyebrows rose to see her reaction.  

“No.  Not reimbursement.  Answers.  What were you planning on doing with the money you’d stolen?” He asked, waiting until Natasha had looked back up to lean forward again.  

“I was going to attempt a trip to Russia,” she said, sitting a little taller in her seat.  Let them make what they would of that.  

“Why?”

“I miss my old home.  I wanted to see what became of it.”

“Were you going to attempt to make contact with Ivan Petrovich again?” Fury asked.  If Loki was confused he didn’t let on, but Natasha felt her own anger rise.  

“No, he’s dead.”

“A fact which you just found out.  Would you have attempted to rebuild the Red Room?”

That wasn’t any of his damn business, was it?  She didn’t answer, leaning back in her seat and glowering at him.  Was he intentionally trying to make her look bad in front of Loki?  She already knew there’d be a hell of a talking to from . . . well, everyone. Ulfir, Loki, Thor.  If Odin was awake she might’ve expected to do some time in the dungeons, even if it had been an accident she’d managed to make it here.  That was saying nothing about the guard that she’d brought with her and somehow managed to lose.  

Loki’s nearest hand pressed itself to her shoulder, squeezing.  A warning.  “Natasha, answer his question,” he said quietly.  She’d never heard his voice get that authoritative; usually he deferred to Thor for such instances.  But now?  Now she could see the training coming out, how still he sat, the expression on his face that told her that anything less than absolute compliance wouldn’t be accepted.  Where the hell had this man been hiding?  

“No, I would not have.  I would have no reason to, as an Aesir, recreate a resistance group,” Natasha said.  As the two men stared at her she felt herself slip, falling into old habits as her face turned stoic and her eyes blanked.  What business did they have asking her these questions, after all?  Aside from steal a couple thousand dollars she hadn’t done anything wrong, and it wasn’t as though the Asgardian treasury couldn’t take care of that.  What was more, she couldn’t help but wonder why she was still there.  Wouldn’t Loki have wanted to take her back already?  His upright, tight posture told her that he didn’t like being there with the Director, either, so why hadn’t he simply insisted they leave and questioned her back in the palace?  

At least there she would’ve had a chance at distracting him.  

It seemed she wasn’t the only one irritated with Fury’s questions.  Loki brushed off imaginary dirt from his lap before he said, voice cold: “If you do not have any further questions to ask, Director, I believe Miss. Romanov and I will be off.”  

“One last thing.  Intel has told us that you have Steve Rogers in Asgard as well,” his eyes met Natasha’s to confirm the information.  Beside her, Loki stiffened.  “Here we have a group called The Avengers, warriors of our own that fight the beings that think if Odin can conquer us, then perhaps they can do the same, and since the warriors you all send are less than adequate--.”

“We do what we can, Director.  Surely you can understand a supply and demand for our warriors,” Loki cut in, voice ice.  

“Of course.  I was going to suggest that, after the convergence, you send Miss. Romanov and Steve Rogers to assist.  Surely you cannot need them all the time, and it would do good for relations between realms to see two of our own, raised to your level, and brought back to protect their home.  I’m sure you can understand.”

Whether or not Loki understood was not made clear, though Nat recognized the slight twitch in his right eye, and if Fury had known what it meant he’d have been shaking in his boots.  

“The request will be put before a council to be considered, when the Allfather is ready to hear such news.  Until then I have no answer to give you.  Good day, Director.”  Loki rose smoothly, towering over the Director even when he stood up.  Natasha followed his lead out the door, her skin crawling as the eyes of a good twenty other agents caught onto Loki and herself.  They would be brought back to land before being taken back via the Bifrost.  Why Loki didn’t simply use magic was beyond Natasha.  In the back of her mind she suspected it had to do with him not wanting to show what he could do.  She couldn’t blame him.  Clint Barton was their pilot, and he kept up a steady series of questions as they departed and descended towards the ground.  While Fury’s had been annoying Barton’s were at least curious.  

“What’re the buildings like in Asgard, really?” He asked, not looking back at where Nat and Loki were sitting, but clearly addressing them.  “Are they actually made out of gold?”

“Yes,” Natasha said.  Despite what he’d done she didn’t harbor any ill will towards him, not anymore.  If anything she couldn’t help but hold him in a higher esteem.  He’d managed to outdo her in a fight, and though she’d been furious about it at the time the man had a lot of guts for taking on an Aesir alone.  

“And your archers.  They as good as I am?”

“Some of them would give you a run for your money, I suspect,” Natasha said, cracking a small smile for the first time in what seemed like too long.  Loki reached out and took her hand, squeezing it.  Reminding her he was still there.  She met his disapproving gaze and leaned over to kiss him, to assure him that she wasn’t flirting.  She really wasn’t!  He turned his head away and her lips fell on his cheek instead.  Ugh.  Fine.  If he wanted to act like it was all bothering him but wouldn’t allow her to do anything about it then alright.  He could act that way.

“Do you guys have any special arrows?  Like ones that explode or let out a poison gas or anything?” Clint asked, sounding more excited than anyone ought to about arrows of all things.  

Nat laughed.  “No.  Do you?”

“Oh honey.  You should stop by again and I’ll show you my whole arsenal.”

Because that definitely put Loki in a better mood.  

   

Clint shook her hand when they got ready to leave, and after dipping his head at Loki the prince stepped closer to wrap an arm around the woman.  For the first time she could feel the comfortable, familiar press of his magic against hers and it made her smile as she buried her face in his chest.  Only for a moment, though.  She’d been unconscious the first time she’d gone through the Bifrost, she wanted to watch the cosmos whip by them this time.  

The sight didn’t disappoint.  Bright bursts of light, of stars going into supernova and new planets being formed, of black holes sucking in everything around them, nothing more than inky blots on the star-studded sky, all while she and Loki flew through the rainbow tunnel.  It was gorgeous, breathtaking even.  Few sights could compare, she was certain.  When they finally touched back on Asgard her knees were a little weaker than before, but she couldn’t help but murmur that she wanted to do that again.  Loki didn’t find that amusing at all.  One hand clasped tight to her forearm as he led her forward, past Heimdal with his bright, all-seeing orange eyes, who simply gazed at her as though she was a puzzle he’d yet to figure out, and onto the bridge where a pair of horses waited for them.  She helped herself up onto the deep grey one, while Loki took his usual black mare and took off down the rainbow bridge, leaving Natasha to follow.  And follow she did.  He was already in a temper; the last thing she wanted was to exacerbate it.  

They dismounted in the stables, rather than leaving the horses for the servants to take care of, and the change made Natasha’s mouth run dry, but she let it go.  Let him find his own words and in the silence took care of her horse as she’d been taught how to, the familiar discomfort from having ridden coming back.  Dammit all.  

“How much of what you told Fury was the truth about why you went back to Midgard?” Loki finally asked, turning to face her as he moved to grab a brush to take care of his horse.

Natasha’s brow furrowed.  “You think I went back intentionally?” She asked, stopping what she was doing so she could watch his expressions instead.  “That I planned to make it back to Earth?  It was an accident, Loki.”

“Then why did you bring an apple with you?” He asked, no longer meeting her gaze as he turned to care for his steed, his movements even and measured, almost robotic.  Nat swore her heart stopped.  How’d he know about that?  “The guard that you sent with you made it to an Aesir agency to be brought back,” he filled her in as she struggled to wrap her mind around it.  “He said he caught you with one of the apples of Idunn.  Who were you going to give it to, Natasha?”  Now he turned to look at her, and the intensity of his stare made her throat seize up.  

“No one.”  She lied.  

His gaze simply narrowed.  Right.  That was stupid.  She gave a quiet sigh and shook her head, looking away from him as she searched for an answer.  

“Don’t think it over.  Just answer me.”  He demanded, voice icy.  

“I wanted to bring it back to Ivan,” she said, finally.  “He was like a father to me, and if he was alive, well I didn’t know when I’d go back next and I wanted to make sure he’d still be alive--.”

“You’re lying to me again.”  

She shivered, more nervous about the fact that she was losing her touch than anything else.  What was happening to her that she couldn’t even lie around Loki anymore?  He’d always been good at detecting them, but now?  He seemed to tap right into her brain.  

“Ivan,” she murmured.  “He developed the super soldier serum that I had before I became an Aesir.  I thought he might be interested in the make-up and magic of the apples.”  There?  Was he happy now?  

No, if his expression was any indication, he wasn’t too pleased with her.  She turned her gaze away from his when he caught her eyes, her cheeks flushing.  She just couldn’t get it right with him, for whatever reason.  There was more silence, filled only with the soft snorts and breathing of the many horses, the muffle stamps of their feet on the hay-covered ground, the swish of their tails against the wooden enclosures.  

“You’re obsessed with the past,” he murmured.  “So much that it’s what triggered you to go back to Midgard.  You are unable to leave it alone, Natasha, as hagalaz says.”  His voice came from much closer, and when she finally turned she saw he was standing right in front of her, making her jump in genuine surprise.  “That’s dangerous.  It’s only going to disrupt everything else around you.”

That wasn’t all that was disrupting her.  She forced herself to breathe evenly as she looked up at him, saw the insecurity and worry in the lines of his eyes and lips, the slight furrow of his brow.  He was making her weak, making her vulnerable.  What was worse, she was letting him do it.  Why?  She cared about him, yes, but she was letting him in.  Getting caught in the lie was only the beginning; she could only imagine what would be next.  He could read her better than any others, leading her to wonder if she’d ever be able to have any secrets, anything just her own.  She didn’t know how to live any other way.  His hand reached up to circle around her right wrist, and underneath his touch the three symbols reappeared, stained black on her skin.  

“You need to learn how to control them now more than ever,” he murmured.  “If they transported you to Midgard there’s no saying what else they’ll do when your emotions get the best of you.”

Well it hadn’t been a problem since he’d come around, had it?  He made her this way, made her emotional, and vulnerable, and she pulled her wrist away with some difficulty.  

“I’ve been trying.  It’s been a day.”

“You don’t have long if it’s manifesting so clearly now.”

Right, because that made her feel so much better.  She just turned away, her agitation leading to a different sort of hum beneath her skin, one Loki could easily pick up on.

"What else happened on Midgard?" He asked seriously, taking her shoulder in his hand when she didn't immediately respond. "And no more lying. You didn't used to before. What are you hiding?"

Not that he knew of at least. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, thinking it over.  Just because she couldn't, for whatever reason, outright lie didn't mean she had to tell the complete truth. They'd not talked about the convergence in Fury's office, so she hadn't gotten a chance to keep an eye on his reactions.

"I'm not hiding anything," she said honestly. "You know the worst of it. I stole and was preparing to go to Russia. I missed my home."

"This is your home now," he said.

"Loki this is where I live," she finally cracked, stepping away from him. "You want me to be an Aesir but I can't. I just can't, not yet. It's only been a few months and I had people I cared about. I had family. Surely you must--."

But here she over spoke. She was going to say that he must know what it was like to be surrounded by those who pretended he was a part of their society, but no. She didn't want to bring up old wounds. He wasn't about to let it go, though, eyes darkening as he advanced on her.

"Surely I must, what?" He asked, and she felt her heart stutter. She didn't respond immediately and he took her by the chin so there was no hiding. "What?"

"Surely you must understand what it feels like to be an outsider," she murmured, letting tears bead in the corners of her eyes. "To feel like you don't belong even though everyone says you do."

He paused, hand going lax enough that she could pull her chin free.  His eyes were wide at the realization and before she could think she embraced him tightly, pressing herself hard against him as her body started trembling. _'Shit, play it off Romanov.'_

"Loki please," she murmured. "I don't want you mad at me, but I had to know. I had to find out while I had the chance."

He embraced her a couple seconds later, arms wrapped around her torso to hold her tight, murmuring that of course he did. She relaxed, not needing to feign relief.

   

He walked her back up to the castle and to her rooms, promising that he’d speak to Thor about the involvement of SHIELD with her recovery.  She thanked him, though her mind was busy working out a solution to talk to Thor as well.  Since the last time she’d met with him she had quite a bit of ground to make up but . . . well, if she wanted the convergence stopped then he was the one she needed to speak to, to convince if it came down to it.  Loki promised to send Frigga up later to speak with her, to answer any further questions she might’ve had about what happened on Midgard, and after pressing a kiss on his cheek for thanks she smiled and watched him walk away.  Once he’d cleared the hall she stepped three doors down and knocked hard on Steve’s door.  There were a couple murmured voices from inside, and with a jolt Natasha recognized one of them as Sif’s.  Oh.  Whoops.  

“Steve?” She said quietly.  “It’s Natasha.”

There were more sounds of scrambling from behind the door before it was opened, Steve’s face a little flushed as he hastily ran a hand through his hair.  Just behind him she could see Sif throwing her own hair into a ponytail and righting the shirt she’d been wearing.  Nat tried not to smirk.  

“Hey!  You alright?” He asked, sounding worried and surprised at the same time.  “Sif was just here to tell me you’d somehow left the realm.  What happened?”

Uh-huh.  “And somewhere in that discussion you got a little friendly, huh?” She teased, watching his ears turn red.  He’d never been a good liar.  “Look, it’s fine.  Just come see me when you can, okay?” She asked with a smile, dipping her head towards Sif.  The goddess looked rather self-satisfied as Steve promised her he would before she walked away to allow him to close the door.  

She caught sight of Frigga heading down the hall towards her just as she turned to go back to her room.  Her lips spread in a smile as she dipped her head in greeting.  

“My queen,” she murmured as the woman neared her.  The queen waved the formality away before placing her hands on Natasha’s shoulders, staring at her rather intently.  

“I’m very glad to see you aren’t hurt,” she said, eyes warm as she spoke, before bringing Natasha in for a quick hug.  Oh.  Wow.  Nat hugged her back, trying not to be too familiar, afraid of somehow overstepping some unknown boundary.  Her hesitancy made Frigga laugh.

“I’m not made of glass, so please do not treat me as such.  I know what a difficult situation you came from and so I wished to convey to you that you have my support and my gratitude for coming back.  I’m not the only one thankful for it.”  

Natasha’s smile tightened a little as Frigga turned to lead her back to her room.  Once they were there, and the door was firmly shut behind them, Frigga took the seat that Natasha offered and folded her hands in her lap.  Her gaze was no less intimidating despite the familiar surroundings, and with some hesitancy Natasha took a seat on the edge of her bed.  Yikes.  

“Loki was worried about you as well.  When Heimdall told us that you had gone missing from Asgard and had found yourself on Earth it was all Loki could do to not storm out immediately after you.  He worried you might get into trouble, which I am sure is not amiss, is it?”

Natasha allowed herself to blush, turning her gaze down to her own hands, clenching the bedspread.  “Am I that transparent?” She teased.  

“No, but if my youngest has an affiliation for you then there is generally a good reason for it,” Frigga insisted.  “Though I could say the same about Thor.”

Oh, awkward.  “Why didn’t Loki come after me, then?” Natasha pressed, confused.  Since when did he wait to do anything he really wanted?  He was much like Thor in that aspect: rushing after his desires, though where Thor was blinded by want, Loki more often than not had three back-up plans just in case.  For a situation like that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had half a dozen.  It wasn’t as though he had much regard for the lives of those who stood in his way.  

“He couldn’t do anything without his brother’s permission, and Thor was away on diplomatic matters.”  Frigga said.  Natasha kept her head from perking up, though her interest piqued.  So she wasn’t off base in thinking that Thor had the final say in most matters while Odin was asleep.  Frigga confirmed the same thing not seconds later, and Nat gave a quiet sigh.  

“That must have been irritating for Loki.”

“Yes, it was.  But then he cares very much for you,” Frigga reminded her.  “I daresay he might love you.  He told me how you have been helping with the information that has become known to him, just before the Allfather’s sleep took him.”  

Yes, she had been.  She alone, aside from Frigga, seemed to know about his Jotun parentage, and she’d guarded the information as carefully as she would have national secrets.  

“Yet you spend equal amounts of time with Thor, and have his affection as well.”  Frigga’s lips were twisted in the smallest of smirks when Nat met her gaze with wide eyes and an open mouth, as though she were thinking of ways to defend herself.  To be honest, nothing came to mind.  What the hell was she supposed to say to that?  

Frigga waved her hands, a soft chuckle leaving her mouth.  “Natasha, my dear, the heart wants what it wants.  I’m not going to begrudge you a thing, but I do urge you to be cautious.  Very cautious.  Not only because they are my boys, but because they both run on very short fuses.  Loki may not look as though he has temper problems but I assure you, when it comes to something he wants he is very devious, and very ambitious.  I do not think I need to warn you about Thor’s predisposition.”  

Nope, not at all.  She’d seen one too many instances of it, and the memory of him taking down the bilgesnipe came back to her inner mind.  She’d hate to see what he did to someone he didn’t care for, or in the name of someone he did.  She dug her toe into the muted gold rug covering a good portion of the stone floor.  It’d been a gift from Loki after she’d mentioned off-handedly that the chill of the floor made getting up early in the morning difficult, and now she couldn’t help but feel guilty every time she looked at it.  She didn’t like these emotions, couldn’t stand the way the guilt rolled in her gut and nearly choked her every time she looked at either one of them.  She’d never had to get this close to any of her targets before and the lack of distance, of perspective, was only making it more difficult.  Frigga was silent as well, staring idly through the room, kind enough to give Natasha time for her thoughts to collect themselves.  

“My queen, there is one more thing I must ask,” Natasha started.  “And it has nothing to do with the aforementioned topics, but it was brought up on Midgard.  I thought if you might help me with it then perhaps I could better understand what was happening.”  

She looked up to see Frigga’s curious gaze leveling with hers once more, and quirked her lips in a nervous smile.  Frigga nodded, assuring Nat that she agreed.  

“The convergence.  One of the men at SHIELD said that the Allfather was planning on aligning the times between realms to one, cohesive clock, lengthening the time so that there wouldn’t be such a strange shift in time.  With the Allfather asleep, what will happen to those plans now?”

She might as well have asked the stunned queen to explain how automobiles worked.  Her brow furrowed as she sat back in her seat, back straight, and face not unlike Loki’s when he was contemplating how to answer something without giving out too much information, how best to twist the truth until it suited them.  Amazing how alike the two were, even without the blood ties.  

“There are still nine days until the convergence is upon us,” Frigga reminded Natasha, who murmured her understanding of that.  “But should the Allfather not wake up before then, then his failsafe plan carries on without him.  He has ensured that the time alteration will go on no matter what, as he’d been afraid of the Sleep coming on at such an inconvenient time.”  She sighed, as though she was on the same train of thought as Natasha in thinking that at least he’d been right about one thing.  “Where did you learn about the convergence?  Not many here are old enough to remember the last one, myself included.”

“Midgard.  They’re treating it like an event.”

“Well it is,” Frigga said with the smallest of smiles.  “It’s a great gift to be given a lengthened life.  Midgard is a beautiful place to spend it on; I could not imagine many would be unhappy with the arrangement.”

Then it was clear she didn’t spend enough time talking to the right people.  Natasha let it go, however, just smiling and bobbing her head, and the two discussed their favorite places within the planet for a short amount of time.  By then the queen had risen, looking to take her leave, and the knock at Nat’s door only solidified her departure.  Steve apologized profusely as he noticed Frigga in the room, bowing his head in respect, but the queen only gave him a small, knowing smile before wishing the pair a good evening.  

Once the door closed behind her and Nat was certain she was safely down the hall, she rounded on Steve.  “I just came back from Midgard and I need your help.”

He pulled a confused face, shoulders straightening a little, and she could practically see the gears in his mind turning.  “What?  How the hell did you get there, firstly?”

“Magic.  Accident, I’ll explain later.  There’s really not time.  Odin’s got some stupid spell planned for what’s called the convergence, and I need to convince Thor that he can’t let it go through,” she said, speaking quickly in fear that they might not get another chance.  She really needed Steve to have her back on this one.  “Time passes differently between Asgard and Midgard.  The seven months we’ve been here?  It’s been seventy years in Midgard.”  

She let that sink in, watched his eyes nearly pop out of his head and his breathing stutter for the briefest of moments.  “I know,” she murmured, moving a hand to his shoulder, tightening her hold to be as comforting as possible.  She wished they had more time to grieve over what they’d both lost, but if they weren’t careful they’d lose so much more in the process.  “I’m sorry, Steve.  I really am, and I wish I had better news, but I’m going to need you to trust me on this.  Please.”

He didn’t answer at first, his eyes far off and jaw tight as she watched him battle his own emotions, suppressing them as only a soldier could, as only she and Steve could.  She’d never known him to be weak, and couldn’t denied that her heart leapt into her throat with gratitude when he reached out to clasp her arm and said: “I’m with you.  I trust you.  What do you need me to do?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my roomie told me I should totally end the story right here, after this chapter, with those last words.   
> Aren't you guys glad I love you all, and this story, way too much to do so? That being said: now things are going to start getting fun, ladies and gents, so buckle up and thanks for sticking with me! As always, comments are a blessing and a million thanks for reading!


	15. Just Don't Deceive Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah. That really awkward moment when you upload the new chapter to another fic by accident?  
> YEP. That's me xD

As she told him they had nine days.  Nine days in which she was supposed to convince Thor to stop the convergence from happening however she could manage it, and as she told Steve that she watched his eyes shift, his lips purse as he prepared himself to counter it.  She simply shook her head, putting a hand on his chest.  No, this she could do.  She’d done it before, and she had no problem doing it again if it came down to it.  He didn’t have to like it because it wasn’t he who had to go through it, but Natasha?  

_‘Sexuality is your greatest weapon, Natasha.  Never forget that what lies between your legs is more than enough to get you what you want, you just have to take advantage of it.’_

Yelena had been more right than just about anyone else Nat had ever spoken to, and it made her chest ache to think she’d never get a chance to tell her that.  But she’d have time for those thoughts later.  She hoped.  

“How did you learn all of this about the convergence?” He asked, having seated himself on her bed and buried his head in his hands, fingers running through the blond hair as he struggled to take it all in.  “And why isn’t anyone else talking about it?  I mean, it sounds like a big deal.”

“Frigga hinted that no one else knew about it because they’d not lived through it, but I doubt Odin really wanted his people to.  They probably get off on the idea that they’re special, that they alone are immortal.  The idea of anyone else, especially Midgardians, becoming like them?” She rolled her eyes, leaning back against the doorframe, one arm wrapped lazily around her middle the other supporting her chin.  “That wouldn’t go over very well for the good king.”  Was that sarcasm dripping from her voice?  Damn right it was.  He drove her up a wall, and she wouldn’t have minded a rebellion against him, to show him that the worlds weren’t his toys for play.  He should’ve left her world alone, and now?  Now he’d pay for it, for everything he’d done to them.  

“So, what do you need me to do, really?” Steve asked, looking up at her with desperate confusion in his eyes.  “I know that you want to get close to Thor to try and keep him from going through with it, but you said you needed my help.  How?”

“I need you to help me try and shut it down if it comes to it,” she murmured.  “If that means taking Thor out so that the spell can’t be completed, or Loki, or anyone else.  I can’t trust anyone else with this, Steve, and I’m sorry--I wish it was less.”  She swallowed hard.  She had no right to ask for so much from him, except that he was the last tie to home that she’d had.  He was a super soldier, he was a patriot to his country.  He was her as she’d always wished she could be.  More than that he was a friend who she’d gotten close to, and she needed his strength if she was going to get through the smallest portion of it.  

“You know this is treason, right?”

“And it’s treason against everything we ever fought for if we don’t do it,” she reminded him, rubbing her eyes with her one hand.  “I’m sorry, Steve.  If you don’t feel comfortable--.”

“To hell with comfortable, I’m doing it.  I just want you to know what you’re getting into.”  He stared her down, suddenly very serious.  “There’ll be no going back after this.  No talking your way out of whatever happens.  We’re in this together, but if we go down, you’d better believe it’ll be the last thing they let us do.  Our stint in the dungeons, I expect, will be like a picnic in comparison to what Odin or Thor will think up.  Even for you.”

She thought over his words, the severity of the punishments that she’d seen inflicted and heard of, the latter always having been ten times worse.  The Aesir weren’t known to be frugal when it came to doling out punishment, and she knew that no matter what Thor felt for her he’d do the same to her if it came to it.  

Her eyes were steely when they met his, nodding.  She knew the consequences, and she was doing it anyway.  He returned the gesture, sitting back and letting out a heavy sigh.  

“Who was it you said that you’d learned all this from, anyway?”  He asked, expression easing a touch, as though it would lessen the tension that ratcheted between them.  

“Tony Stark.  Calls himself Iron Man back on Midgard--Steve, what is it?”

He’d gone pale, his lips having fallen open into the smallest of ‘o’s that worried the hell out of her.  What had she said?  “What happened?  What’s wrong?”

“Stark?”

“Yes.”  She frowned.  That was his name, wasn’t it?  Yes.  She could recall with perfect clarity the no-nonsense voice that Coulson had taken when he’d been talking to the engineer, the way he’d carried the name like it meant something more than a lineage.  What was she missing?

“I knew his father, I think.  Is he average height, brown hair, brown eyes?”

“Yeah.”  That wasn’t saying much.

“Ego like you wouldn’t believe?”  

Good to know it was seemingly hereditary.  “Yes.”

“And good with machines?”

Now she was freaked out.  “Very.”  

He nodded curtly.  “Good to know he had family."  

Her heart nearly burst with the longing that filled his voice, moving from her spot opposite him to sit at his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  “I know.  I feel the same.”

They didn’t talk about it for the rest of the evening, the name hiding in the back of either of their minds, to be looked at on a much later date, with less pressing matters on hand.  She just wished she could be certain that time would come, the edges of her nerves already frayed and begging to relax.  

He just had one last question for her before he left, turning back to face her as he reached the door. "What about Loki? He's not exactly going to leave you alone, not now that he got you back from Midgard."

_'And not now that I know he cares about me.'_

"Anyway you think you can distract him?" She asked with a meek smile, one that made Steve groan.

"This isn't going to end well for Sif and my . . . Whatever. Is it? What do you want me to do, seduce him?" He asked, sounding sarcastic. His face grew incredulous when her smile didn't go away.

"You complete me!" She shouted after his retreating form, allowing herself a small smile when he waved it away.  It was a strange comfort to think that he had her back, and that she could count on him.  She hadn’t thought it possible when they first met, but now?  Well, she was grateful she’d reached out to him, and hoped he’d be able to say the same thing when they were done.  

 

When Loki came back to visit her it was later that evening, knocking softly on her door and entering when she didn’t get up, buried under her covers and pretending to be asleep.  At least she could still act without him knowing whether or not she was lying.  She could feel the way his magic simmered in his body as he stood in the doorway, obviously caught between leaving or waking her up, and kept her breathing even as she felt him grow nearer, the door closing behind them.  It wasn’t as though they hadn’t spent the night together before, but now?  Her heart was already sitting in the pit of her stomach, how much further could it fall before she was free of it entirely?  The bed shifted as he climbed into it with her, one arm wrapping around her waist.  She shifted, humming in surprise before her eyes opened swiftly and she turned, feigning panic, as she looked at him.  

“Hey, it’s just me,” he soothed, smiling as he watched her face relax when she recognized him, the way her body went loose in his grip, and she buried her face in his chest, body shaking.  “You’re safe,” he promised.  “I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

Too late.  He’d already done a damn good job of it.  

 

She was back on the training field bright and early the next morning after having kissed Loki’s cheek and wishing him a good morning.  The bright sun felt like heaven on her skin, the brisk wind more than a sufficient wake-up call as she put herself through her paces with her sword.  The weight felt familiar and comfortable in her hands by now, arms toned and steady as she brought it down again and again on the dummy in front of her until it was nothing but a wooden pulp by the time she’d finished.  

“I thought I heard you down here,” came a familiar rumble from behind her, making her still with the edge of her sword wedged deep in the dummy’s skull.  She smiled.  Just as planned.  

Yanking the sword free she grinned to see Thor.  “Well, you know me.  I can’t resist getting a good workout in the morning,” she said.  He looked different from the last time she’d seen him, as though the burden of the crown had made his shoulders straighter and his eyes a little darker, had chased away some of the blind, boyish ambition in order to make room for responsibility.  Interesting, and yet worrying at the same time.  She’d been banking on him being driven by the same motivations as before, but now?  She hadn’t been gone for that long, had she?  But her parting words to him came back, how she’d berated him for treating her differently, how she’d all but ripped him a new asshole simply because she was mad at him for the situation she’d put herself into.  Her cheeks flushed and she brought her eyes down, biting her bottom lip in contrition.  

“Ah, I’m sorry for what I said last time.  I didn’t mean it--I mean, I did at the time, about you being fascinated with me because I wasn’t--but I didn’t have to say it.  Like that.  What I’m trying to say is I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, Thor.  My king,” she stuttered, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear and chancing a glance up at him, as though terrified he’d yell at her.  Hell, he might for all she knew.  Instead, he tipped her chin further upwards and shook his head, still smiling.  

“Natasha you do not have to apologize.  You were right about me treating you differently, and it was not appropriate for me to consider you for those wrong reasons.”  

Well, color her surprised.  She actually flushed when he took the back of her hand and kissed it, then moved closer to press his lips to her cheek.  “Please accept my apology,” he murmured in her ear, breath hot against her skin, not helping at all with the color still staining her cheeks.  What the hell was she supposed to make of that?  She swallowed hard and nodded, forcing herself to smile up to him.  She had to win him over, she reminded herself, and there wasn’t much time to do that.  

“Want to spar?” She asked when she finally found her voice, only half acting.  Thor grinned, and she was relieved to see the familiarity peeking through.  Good to know he was still, at least mostly, the same.  She hoped.  As he moved off to get a sword of his own, she peeled off an over layer she’d been wearing, putting herself in the Asgardian equivalent of a tank top, and rolling up the pants she had on so that they showed off her calves.  She wasn’t above putting a reminder of how much he’d seen of her back in his mind, both to win and to make sure that he remembered the time they’d had together in the forest.  She couldn’t help but shiver as the memory overtook her as well.  Despite all the drama that had followed that had been far too much fun.  

His lips spread into a far wider grin when he turned back to see her bearing so much skin, a look that she mimicked as she twisted the sword in her hand to loosen up her wrist before adopting her usual fighting stance, lowering her center of gravity to gain more control over her body.  Thor did the same after shedding his shirt, smirking when he saw her eyes widen half a centimeter.  Ah.  Turnabout was fair play, she supposed.  

They circled one another for a short period of time, Natasha’s eyes skittering over his body as she tried to read his moves.  Generally, he was good at telegraphing them, and it allowed her to twist her body out of the way just before he would’ve landed a hit to her shoulder.  There was a clang as her sword hit his, pushing it back, though he was much stronger than she was and her upper hand didn’t last for long, his elbow finding her gut and shoving into it.  She dropped, sword flung to the side as she fell back onto her hands and kicked his feet out from under him, catching one of his legs and pinning it hard beneath his body as she crawled atop him.  She didn’t know many men that would pass that up, and indeed the first time they’d coupled he’d been more than a little happy to have her on top of him, but now?  He wasn’t pulling any punches as his hands found her hips and threw her off.  She landed on all fours, crouched, eyes fixing on where her sword had fallen, and waited until he stood, his own in hand and sprinted towards her.  With ease she somersaulted out of the way, and kicked him in the back of his knees, forcing him to stumble forwards.  She scrambled over to grab her sword and had it pointed in his direction moments later, just before he knocked it out of the way and forced her back to the ground.  She managed to squeeze one leg between them, wrapping it around the back of his neck before driving the flat of her palm into his nose, not nearly hard enough to break the bones of an Aesir, but just hard enough to make his eyes water.  He was laughing as he pulled away, snatching her hands and pinning them above her head, his hips pinning hers down.  

Well, at least it was something she could work with.  She bucked her hips up against his, able to feel the way his cock strained against his trousers the way it always did when he fought, and wriggled beneath him, arching her back as she tried to pull herself free.  It wasn’t much helping his arousal, but it did distract him long enough for her to slip one of her legs free and drive her knee into his gut.  He rolled over and she took her place back atop him, though this time her knees pinned his arms down and pushed his legs back with her hands, giving him a much better view of how flexible she could be. If that didn’t distract him, well, she might as well get out of the business.  He faltered beneath her, and she grinned down at him.  

“Give up?” She murmured, voice husky from fighting and cheeks flushed, lips parting as she panted.  He nodded, and once she’d loosened her grip on his arms he grabbed her by the hips again and positioned her over his own, making her gasp with how he felt beneath her.  

“This is what you do to me, Natasha,” he murmured.  “Not you as a human, or an Aesir.  But you.  You excite me and entice me.  I’m always amazed by how strong you really are, and not just because of one alteration or another.”  He sat up to press his lips hard to hers, and she didn’t pull away, letting him cradle the back of her head with one of his hands.  “It’s you that I want.  Not that you came from Midgard or Russia or anywhere else.  Just you.”  

Not for the first time she felt herself heating up beneath his hold, her hips grinding against his as he licked inside her mouth, making her moan and press her breasts hard against his chest.  One of his free hands ran the length up her tank top, palming her through the fabric until her nipples hardened beneath his touch, but she pulled away soon after.  

“Not here,” she whispered, lips swollen and eyes glazed.  “Not now.  Your room, ten minutes?”  It was on the opposite end of her own, and so long as she could stay silent enough then there was no reason that Loki had to know.  She had to get into Thor’s good graces, had to find a way to stop the convergence.  He was her best option without getting anyone else in trouble or finding out her plan and stopping it.  She hoped.  

He just smiled and she couldn’t help but do the same, kissing his cheek before getting off of him and offering him a hand to help him up.  He smiled and accepted it, promising her he’d be in his room.  She told him she’d meet him there, heading back down the wing towards her room.  She wanted to check whether Loki would be there or not, and sure enough he was sleeping when she crept back into the room.  The smallest of smiles flitted across her face, and she scrawled a quick note on the desk that told him she’d gone to get some exercise before breakfast.  At least she wasn’t mostly lying.  Placing it on her side of the bed gently, she grabbed a second outfit to wear after getting with Thor, and snuck her way back out.  Her heart felt heavy, admittedly, but she pushed through it as best she could.  Loki would understand her, she hoped, one day.  After this all panned out, after she managed to explain it to him, give him her take on it, he’d understand.  Right?  

Her feet felt heavy all the way to Thor’s, and her hand just as much as she knocked on the door with about half a minute to spare.  She took a second to summon as much magic as she could, trying to think of something to take him off guard with, and smiled as she felt the lace of her undergarments against her skin, completely hidden from his gaze.  That’d get his attention, right?  An apology, she decided, and a way to convince him that she ought to be listened to if only for this reason alone.  

He was grinning as well when he opened the door and beckoned her in.  She set down her spare set of training clothes before he turned her around and pressed her up tight against the door, moaning into her mouth as his hands found her hips and started to pick up the hem of her shirt.  She shook her head, a mischevious grin slicing her mouth open as she pushed him backwards towards the bed, not stopping until his knees had hit the back and he’d fallen onto the soft mattress, landing on his forearms.  Before he could ask what was going on, his brow furrowed, her fingers grasped the edges of her pants and slowly undid the button, then zipper, before sliding them down inch by inch past her hips.  She watched his mouth fall open before she turned around to afford him the best look at her sculpted backside, the pair of panties she’d chosen deep crimson and lace, leaving little to the imagination.  She didn’t think they had anything like that in Asgard, and what was more the matching garter around her hips attached to sheer black stockings that ran the length of her legs.  She didn’t know any man who could withstand that.  Next came her top, and this time she turned slowly on the spot as she made a dance out of removing the tank top, revealing her full breasts nearly spilling out of a matching black and red lace bra.  She could all but see his brain short circuiting as she walked away to put her clothing down on the side, hips swaying with every slow step, before turning her walk predatory as she advanced on him instead.  

“Natasha--what?”

“They’re from Midgard,” she purred.  “Don’t you like them?” She asked, inching her way up and onto the bed, straddling him and rubbing her already wet center against his still-clothed cock.  She could feel that he did, and without letting him respond she fused her lips to his, rocking her hips against his as though she could take him inside her as it was.  He groaned, the sound coming out tormented and broken into her mouth, as one of his hands palmed her through the lace of her bra, the other messing with the ruffles of her garter, moaning as he brushed his fingers over her stockings.  She mirrored the noises, allowing herself to break concentration so that they disappeared beneath his fingertips, and her hands, which had taken up to working him out of his trousers, finally managed to pull him free.  She moaned, about to sink herself atop him, when he stopped her, prefering instead to flip them over and grin as he positioned himself between her legs.  

“Please, allow me to do all the work,” he flirted, mouth lowering to meet her nipple and suck hard.  She whimpered, trying not to let the pounding of her heart get the best of her.  She hated being out of control, hated being beneath someone.  The last one she’d let do that--.  

_'Loki.'_

She was grateful for her practice with keeping her face free of whatever she felt inside, especially as he sank into her without much hesitation.  She gasped, the air leaving her lungs in a combination of the pleasure and pain of him stretching her out, as well as the pain that stuck in her heart.  She didn’t have time for that now, though, she tried to remind herself as she forced a grin onto her face when Thor raised his eyes to meet hers.  

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, leaning down onto his forearms to kiss her cheek, graze his teeth over her ear, then down to her throat.  “I’ll take it slow,” he promised, thinking she was in pain from just him.  She swallowed hard and murmured a thanks, wrapping her arms around him and letting her body do the work for her, isolating herself from the act.  It wasn’t that he wasn’t a good lover--in fact, he was one of the very best, considerate and damn talented at making her cry out even as she stuck her fist into her mouth to shut it up.  There wasn’t anything that he was doing wrong, and again she hated that she had to force herself to do this, to fuck one brother and convince him how she loved him while . . . well, there was no point denying she had feelings for Loki any longer.  

And still she carried on, gasping and moaning in Thor’s ear, whispering to him how good he felt, how perfect he was, not objecting when he turned her around after she came the first time.  If anything, she welcomed the change, and though it made adjusting to his size all the more difficult, she shoved her face into the bedspread and let herself cry beneath him.  Just for a few minutes.  He thought it was out of pleasure, and all she had to do was tighten her body beneath him every so often, raggedly shout his name, and he was satisfied.  He never had to look at her bloodshot eyes.  

 

They finished by the time the rest of the castle was getting around to it, and she’d put on a happy face once more to face him, wiping her eyes and promising him that yes, she really had enjoyed herself.  “You couldn’t tell?” She teased, kissing his worried frown away.  “Every other word out of my mouth was your name, telling you how good you feel.  You’re just . . . rather big, my king.”

He shuddered under the name, and she smirked, nipping at his earlobe before wishing him a good day.  She dressed herself in a hurry and, rather than heading down to breakfast with the rest of everyone else, pushed herself to the training grounds once more, wiping away the fresh tears that fell silently down her cheeks.  She had a lot to get off of her mind.  

 

For the next couple days she met with Thor as often as she could sneak away, spending a portion of her evening with him before carefully composing herself and going to magic training with Loki.  The pair often worked late into the night, Loki having insisted to Ulfir that Natasha learn how to control her magic before she rejoined the guards, lest they have another accident, and Nat was grateful for the free time.  It gave her more of an opportunity to try and speak to Thor, try and coerce him into seeing her side.  

The only problem was that he wasn’t ever interested in talking about the convergence.  She’d bring it up, and he’d wave it away as though it wasn’t important, didn’t mean anything.  “Don’t trouble yourself over it,” he promised her with a smile, kissing her lips to silence her.  “Everything will go according to plan.  I’ll be there, on Midgard, when the moment is right and that will be that.  Nothing to worry about, pet.”  He smiled, cupping the side of her face as though to assure her he found her worry cute.  She hated it, hated that he wouldn’t take her seriously.  One night it was too much, and she pushed his hand away.  

“Thor, listen to what I’m saying god dammit.  I don’t want you to do this,” she said, getting off from where she’d been sitting on his lap, having seated herself there after dressing from their latest tumble.  “I’m trying to tell you that it’s not in the best interest of your people.  You have to think of them now as that, as your citizens.  You have to do what’s best for them no matter what your father thinks.  He’s so out of touch--.”

“Natasha, have care how you speak of him,” Thor murmured, his playful expression darkening as he looked at her.  “He may be asleep but the Allfather can still see and hear what happens around him.”

“I don’t care, Thor.  Listen to me.  Listen to what I’m saying--.”

“I am, and I am telling you that it is none of your business.  These are the affairs of the crown,” he said, rising to his feet to tower over her.  Rather than be intimidated it only made her more furious, and she could feel her magic crackling within her veins, responding to her rising anger. _‘Calm down,’_ she reminded herself, allowing her body to deflate in front of him.  She’d just stepped towards him, one hand extending to press against the side of his face affectionately, apologetically, when the door entered behind her, and she twisted around to see Loki standing in the doorway.  He blinked twice, as though trying to fully take in what was happening, before composing his face.  She pulled away from Thor as though he’d burned her, but the thunderer took his hand in hers and kissed the back of it.  “We’ll discuss this later,” he murmured quietly before striding forward to his brother.  Loki eyed the pair of them, and even behind his mask she could see his jealousy flaring up again.  She swallowed hard.  Shit.  

“Trouble?” He asked, voice cool  “I heard shouting.”

“Nothing.  The Lady Natasha and I simply were having a heated discussion is all.”  Thor assured him with a good natured smile, though the creases around his eyes spoke more to the stress he felt at Loki interrupting their argument.  The dark-haired god nodded his head in muted understanding.  

“Heimdall has been asking for you.  He says he has something he needs you to see.” Loki said, folding his hands behind his back, shoulders taut and face clean of all deception.  “It is about the other realms.  The convergence is only five days away and the realms are growing restless for confirmation.”

“Of course.”  Thor sighed, standing taller than ever as he nodded once in Nat’s direction and headed out.  She took a step to follow after him, wanting more than ever to drive her point home, but the look on Loki’s face stopped her with a sinking feeling in her gut.  

As if it wasn’t bad enough how he found them, the room reeked of sex, telling all too easily the story of what had happened beforehand.  She tried to breathe, to focus on anything but the way her chest ached as she looked at Loki, the way his brows pulled together as he circled around towards her.  

“You’re sleeping with him again?” He asked, voice quiet.  She nodded, unable to find words.  What was the point in lying?

“How long?”

“The past few days,” she answered, feeling the color return to her cheeks.  She turned to face him, to try and reach out to him, but he smacked her hand away.  Her breath caught in her throat. “Loki, I promise it’s not what it seems.  Just give me some time, please, and then I’ll explain but you have to trust me--.”

He laughed, the noise a punch to her gut as he tipped his head back. It gave her chills and stuck to her ribs, seeping into her heart and making the pain and irony of her words theirs to share.   “Trust you?” He asked when he’d finally calmed down enough to draw breath, green eyes dancing with sick, humorless mirth.  “How could I ever trust you?” He demanded, gaze narrowing as he advanced on her.  Fear made her step backwards, choked her before his hand could so much as find her throat.  Her eyes blew wide as she hit the back of the bed and did her best to stand straight.  “What?  You ask for trust but you won’t lay down for me the way you do for him?”  He taunted, madness gleaming in his eyes as he reached out to grip her chin.  “You want to act like the whore for him alone, while I . . I love--loved.  You.”  He swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing as he watched her eyes fill with tears, not only for the pain of the past tense but at the pressure he was putting on her jaw.  She reached up to try and take his hand in hers, to pry it from her.  

“Please, Loki,” she whispered.  “Just give me five days.  Five days and I’ll explain everything, I promise--.”

“Do you love him?” He demanded, voice cold.  Or was that the room around them?  

She gasped as she watched the blue roll up his skin, coating his arm and covering it with puckered, light blue lines that spiraled and stretched across him.  His eyes narrowed as he inhaled deeply, as though smelling her fear.  “Is this why you chose him over me?” He demanded.  “Because of this?”  He threw her backwards onto the bed, and she barely caught herself, sitting up quickly, a denial on her lips.  It didn’t matter, he didn’t want to hear it.  As slowly as the blue began to recede she could see something else in his gaze change, grow far more vengeful than anything else she’d ever seen before.  He moved away from her, standing straighter, and his scepter was in his hand half a second later.  Her eyes widened and she hastened to stand up even as he broke away.  

“No, Loki, don’t--stay here. Stay with me--.”

“Heimdall’s not looking for my brother, I just told him that to send him away.  He’s in the infirmary, having taken ill.”  He smirked as he locked his gaze with Natasha’s, and the clarity of the moment hit her hard enough to nearly sap the energy from her body.  No.  

“Loki don’t, please,” she begged, standing up and moving towards him, her hand reaching out to grab his wrist.  “I’ll explain right now, I promise, I--.”  What she would do never left her lips as her whole body seized with the shock of the spell he’d shot at her.  They’d been practicing spells to make one woozy, to fall asleep just yesterday and already she could feel her consciousness beginning to fade.  The strength of her hand on Loki’s wavered.  

“No--Loki.  Please,” she begged, sinking to her knees, voice weak and hardly more than a scratch as she clung to his hand.  There was the slightest of hesitations in it before he shook her off, letting her fall to the ground.  All went dark around her, sleep overtaking her no matter how hard her body tried to fight it.  What had she done?  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is everyone. I've been looking forward (and dreading) to that last scene since day one, and I hope it was well worth it. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you like the update!  
> Btws, song that goes along with this chapter: El Tango De Roxanne from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. So good.


	16. No One Can Hear You There

When she woke up it was somewhere far more comfortable than the floor that she’d fallen onto, with Sif looking over her.  Nat’s brow puckered as she stared up at the goddess.  What?  How the hell had she gotten there?  She tried to sit up, but the woman put her hand on her shoulder, pressing her gently back down and onto the bed.  

“Hey, your head took a good knock to it.  Calm down,” she murmured.  “Relax and lay back down.”

“No, I can’t.”  Natasha gasped, the pain suddenly blossoming at the base of her skull.  Oh, hell.  That sucked.  “Where’s Loki?”

“King, Loki.”  Sif corrected, her voice hushed and stroking the side of Natasha’s face with soft fingers.  That made the red head sit back up again, the world rushing around her as her gaze locked onto Sif’s eyes.

“Hey, Natasha.”  Steve was at her side now, one of his larger hands coming up to brush against her shoulder.  “You’re alright here but you’ve gotta listen to what Sif says.”  

She swallowed hard as she took them both in, head still spinning from what Sif said.  “What the hell happened to Thor?” She demanded.  “How did Loki--what happened?”

Sif’s lips pursed, her eyes sweeping downwards as she tried to find the words.  Natasha knew the face, had seen it one too many times on Ivan as he tried to find the way to tell her that she’d lost another friend to an attack.  Had lost Alexei.  She felt her heart sink and one of her hands reached out to grasp Sif’s chin, tipping it back up.  Her face drew together in pain and confusion.  

“Please.  It’s all my fault and I need to know what happened so I can fix it.”

“Loki sent Thor to Midgard, and closed the Bifrost.  Permanently,” she murmured.  “He said that Thor had made arrangements to travel to Jotunheim, to make war with the Frost Giants, and in the process he’d exiled Thor to Midgard in order to keep the peace between the two realms.  And unfortunately with the death of a prominent Jotun dignitary it looks to be true”

“Why can’t Thor just go to SHIELD, or the Aesir dignitary on Earth?” She asked.  “They’d know him in a heartbeat.”

“I suspect there’s a deeper reason behind it, otherwise he’d be back by now, but his exile seems . . . well, it doesn’t look as though it’ll be over any time soon. Natasha, you need to lay back down, I mean it--.”

“No, I have to go talk to Loki.  I have to get this all figured out,” she insisted, pushing past the woman’s hand as it tried to lay her back down.  Why couldn’t they understand that this was all her fault and she had to do something about it?  And if Loki was in a position of power . . . hell, she didn’t think he’d listen to her anymore, but she had to try.  Had to at least explain herself.  If nothing else, well.  “Steve, are you still with me?” She asked, blue eyes finding the super soldier’s with unsurety.  

Steve swallowed hard, ignoring Sif’s confused look as she stared over at him, but he nodded none the less.  “You know I’ve got your back no matter what happens.”  

Nat nodded.  “Good.  I’m going to try and get Thor back.”

“Loki doesn’t want to see anyone else right now,” Sif insisted, folding her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed, as though she was piecing everything together.  “I don’t know what you did Natasha to make him lash out like that, but I think that includes you.”

“I have to try.  Don’t I?  If I can do even the smallest thing to make it right I’ve got an obligation to do it.  Right?”  She asked, her gaze hardening as she stared at Sif.  They both knew it was right, that she had a point, and even if Loki didn’t listen to her she wouldn’t know until she gave it a shot.  Besides, he tended to show his hand when she got him talking, and if she could just manage to keep him going on a tangent, get him gloating, or even yelling at her, she stood a chance of finding a way off of Asgard and back to Midgard.  “Now, how long was I out for?”  

“Two and a half days.”

So she had less than three days left, a month in Midgardian time, to find Thor.  “And why can’t Thor make it back?”

“It’s not been said, and Loki won’t see anyone aside from the queen to confide in.  Not even Amora.”  

Well, Nat couldn’t be angry about that.  The sorceress was crazy, and more than likely to turn on Loki if it meant she would get her own desires and needs met.  She stretched herself slowly, trying to gain feeling back in her fingers and toes, swallowing hard as she thought on all the time she’d lost while having been asleep and wishing, all the more, that she’d been able to counter Loki’s spell.  She’d have to learn that soon enough.  With a clear mind, she tried summoning fresh clothes for her to change into, but found she couldn’t quiet her mind enough, no matter how hard she focused on the beating of her heart or the softest taps of her fingertips on the bed’s surface.  Her magic felt heavy and clunky, as weighed down as her heart with the prospect of having to speak to Loki on Thor’s behalf.  On her own behalf.  

_‘Chin up.  You can do this.’_

She stood slowly and met Steve’s eyes with a small nod.  Sif remained silent, eyes judging the two of them with curiosity and something akin to disbelief, before Nat leaned over to press a small kiss to her cheek.  “Thank you, Sif,” she murmured, lowering herself back down to the flats of her feet.  “For everything.  You’ve been a good friend to me.”  Why did it feel like she wouldn’t see her again?  Sif’s eyes were wide, and her gaze softened as she leaned over to take Natasha by the side of the face and nod.  They were warriors first and women second, and that kinship made Natasha’s chest tighten a little.  “Steve, let her know what's going on?” Nat said with a tight smile.  “I’ve gotta get going.”

Steve nodded and pulled Sif aside with small kiss to the goddess’ temple.  Nat, meanwhile, straightened her dress and tried to conjure a new one.  Though her magic felt like wet paper as she tried to pull it out, she managed to create a new gown, this one deep green with a deep back and a boat collar and thin sleeves that hung off her shoulders.  If that didn’t get his attention, well, then she was out of luck.  She left her hair down, as he’d liked it, and ran her hands through it a couple times to try and smooth it out and at least look halfway presentable.  He was a king now, and appearances had to be kept up, but he’d appreciate it all the more if it looked as though she couldn’t have waited to see him.  

The guards in front of the throne room doors, however, posed the smallest of problems.  Ulfir barely bobbed his head as Nat drew closer, and the man at his side, Arten, was no friendlier.  She kept her chin held high, a slight sword-edged smile on her lips as she watched the two men she’d trained with for the past seven months, dipping into the smallest of bows when she finally stood in front of them before turning her attention and smile to Ulfir.  

“I need to speak with the king,” she said, glad her voice held its own authority.  He seemed surprised at it, as well.  She’d never talked to him as an equal, only ever as a student to a teacher.  Perhaps he’d assumed she’d lost her edge from not fighting with them, however ridiculous that could’ve been.  He’d believed in her, and helped her, but she hoped he remembered that she was still a force to be reckoned with even if she wasn’t training with him every day.  

“He does not wish to see anyone,” the captain said, eyes doing a quick once-over of Natasha, the lines around his lips tight.  There would be no alternative route to getting past him, though she was confused why Loki bothered with guards when he had a magic of his own to keep out those who he didn’t want, leading her to wonder how the other entrances into the hall were being guarded.  She’d go to those if it absolutely came to it.  

“Ulfir, he wishes to see me,” she insisted.

“I have my orders, Romanov.  There’s nothing else that can be done about it.”  His face went stoic as he watched her fold her arms behind her back, gaze calculating as she turned her own down onto her feet.  

“Ulfir, please.”  She kept her voice quiet now, having seen him once or twice unmanned by the occasional woman passing by.  She’d locked the information deep within her mind to be used at a later date, and if he already thought her weaker for not having been on guard duty or having trained with the rest of them since she’d been back to Asgard, then perhaps this would work.  Assuming the fates were on her side, of course.  

She could all but hear him swallowing, and when her eyes rose to meet his, his own were dark and assertaining how she hunched her shoulders in the slightest way, made herself look even smaller than before.  Yet his back stiffened.  

“I will ask him if he desires to speak with you.  If not then there is nothing I can do for you, and you will leave the hall.”  His voice was gruff and she quickly murmured that she agreed.  

“I owe you one,” she promised him, though he waved it away with a gloved hand before disappearing through the large open doors.  Natasha watched him go, waited until the solid thud of the door had finished resounding through the room she was standing.  She timed out his footsteps so that he’d be far enough away before she drove her hand into Arten’s nose, making his eyes water while she ripped his sword from his side and jammed the hilt of it into his less protected waist.  He collapsed, groaning.  

“Sorry,” she murmured, but she wasn’t taking any chances and there wasn’t any time for her to waste.  She ripped open the nearest door and strode quickly down it, gown rippling as she walked, calling far too much attention to herself with sword in hand.  She tossed it away half way towards the throne, Ulfir having turned from Loki and drawn his own.  Her eyes drank in the sight of the man on the throne, his legs spread akimbo, bright eyes staring out from his glittering, golden helm, left arm brought to his mouth to guard the smile she was sure spread over his lips while in his right hand he held Gungnir loosely and upright.  He made an impressive sight, she had to admit, and when she drew to the bottom of the stairs she knelt immediately just in front of the tip of Ulfir’s sword.  

“I’m sorry, my king,” she murmured, looking up at him from behind her lashes.  “But I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“Romanov you were instructed to stay--.”

“Enough, Ulfir.”  Loki was sitting slightly forward on his seat, eyes fixing on her.  “Thank you for your service.  Please return to your post.”

“My king--.”

“Captain.  You heard my command.”  

There was no brokering an argument in that voice, and the hint of it made her skin erupt into gooseflesh and her cheeks tinge with pink.  Something about the way he looked, well, she’d be lying if she said it didn’t do things to her.  Judging by the way he was gazing at her, so transfixed and damn intent, as though he was devouring her whole, she didn’t think he’d miss it.  Or mind it, if the way he shifted his hips ever-so slightly told her anything.  Her lips were swollen from having been bitten on her way up to the throne and parted so as to gain his attention on how ragged and quick her breathing was.  She could only hope it would, at the very least, draw his attention back to simpler times in the library, her mouth against his, their magic between them.  Her own seemed to set off at even being this close to him, and once more she bent her head to him, waiting for him to speak first, or bid her to rise.  Whichever he prefered, as it was.  

He seemed to be waiting for Ulfir to leave, the guard taking his time returning to outside the hall before he was stopped by the king.  “Do not let anyone else enter until I say so.  I mean it, Ulfir.”

“Yes, my king,” he said, the slightest bite to his voice meant for Natasha.  She would have winced if she dared show weakness.  There was the creak and thud of the door opening and closing, and then silence fell between them.  She didn’t dare look up, trying to focus on the intricate patterns etched into the golden stone beneath her, the way that it felt beneath her already aching knees, the flooring unforgiving as the stare Loki had fixed on the back of her neck.  A fit sentence, she supposed, to be kept to kneel until the king commanded otherwise.  

The other connotations set fire between her legs, and she knew she was all the better for it.  The more he believed, trusted her that she really did want him (and oh, how she did, that was the honest truth) the better this would go.  Hopefully.  

“Stand.”

Slowly she rose from her place, knees cracking quietly, cheeks flushed from the intensity of Loki’s focus on her.  He’d sat back in his throne now, chin tipped up, trying to look as if she didn’t affect him.  A lie, she knew.  Well, was sure of.  She had hoped that two days had tempered his mind at least a little.  Though aside from his last outburst he normally kept it all well hidden anyway.  

_‘How do you trick a trickster king?’_

He held all the cards, and she held her tongue until ordered to do otherwise, not meeting his gaze with her own, focusing on the spot just to the side of him to keep her gaze lowered enough to show respect.  Her hands were folded once more behind her back, forcing her chest to jut out in what would have been an appealing manner, already rising and falling with the quickness of her breath.  

“Come closer.  You fashioned that dress just for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, my king,” she said quietly, feet nearly silent as she moved up two steps, eyes fluttering up to meet his.  What a game it was they were playing.  Where he’d before been the one caught in her schemes it seemed she’d been caught in one of his own, one where she didn’t know the rules.  One she had to win if she wanted to set this right, to fix the mess Odin sought to put the world into.  One she owed to Ivan to fix.  

She gasped as the cold air hit her body, the dress having been torn off.  She still wore her undergarments from the time before, Thor having liked them so much that she’d managed to convince the seamstress to make Asgardian versions for her.  The corset balconette was a deep red, much like the color she allowed to spread over her cheeks, and though she didn’t wear any panties the garters and stockings were of a matching color.  He tutted quietly and with the shift of his long fingers the color changed until it matched that of the dress he’d taken away from her.  

“Better.”  His voice was a growl.  “You wear these for Thor, not for I.  For the once prince of Asgard.”  

“I’d always thought you didn’t prefer anything to stand in the way of what you wanted,” she said, voice the slightest hint of a challenge as she met his eyes through her lashes once more.  He sucked in a quick breath.  

“That never stopped you from putting them in my way.  Did it?”  He beckoned her closer still, and with sure feet and strong knees, mostly, she closed the distance until she stood in front of him.  One of his hands pulled her down onto his lap, the cold metal of the throne hitting her back as he leaned her across his lap.  His fingers dragged lazily down the planes of her stomach, teasing with the edges of her garter.  

“I do like you like this, Natasha,” he said quietly.  “I like you out in the open for me.  I like you to not lie to me.  To not deceive me.”  One hand that had been snaking backwards around her neck took a sudden sharp tug of her hair, right where he knew she liked it.  Her back arced, breasts pressed upwards for his gaze, and his teeth were on her soft flesh a moment later, making her whimper beneath him.  “I like you exposed to me, especially when you came here to talk.  Why should I listen to you?” He asked, releasing her hair so she could lay back down.  

With hesitant fingers, she reached up to cup the side of his face, feeling how badly he wanted her pressing hard into her back, as she wetted her lips to try and find the words to say.  “I asked you before to trust me--.”

His cackle cut her off, eyes rolling, as he shifted backwards in her seat, posing her on the very edge of his lap so any moment she swore she was going to fall.  

“Trust?  You?  I tried that after I caught you and Thor sneaking back like a pair of youths gone to the barn to explore one another’s bodies.  I trust you did that and more in the forest on your little hunting trip?”

“Yes.”  She swallowed hard, feeling herself being angled a little off his lap, though the hand on the side nearest the edge assured her she wasn’t going to fall.  Odd.  “But there was a reason for it.  A deeper one.  I promise you.  I just need to explain myself to you, please.  Loki, please.”  

“You seem to be saying that an awful lot.”  

Oh she didn’t like the way his lips twisted, knew it wouldn’t bode well for her, though the darkest part of her grew interested at the look.  He wasn’t going to trust her, no, but he would allow her a chance.  A chance was all she needed, no matter what the task might be.  She just hoped she had time to play his game and convince him before it was too late.  

“I want to play a game, Natasha.  You’re going to take what I give you, whatever I give you, without allowing yourself release.  Of any sort.  Should you succeed and outlast me then I will listen to what you have to say without previous judgement until I’ve heard it all, but my response and choices from then on are my own.  That is the risk you must be willing to make.”  

She bit her bottom lip.  She was comfortable enough with her body, had been through numerous tortures of nearly too many types to count, but sexually?  She was used to absolute control over that, even where Loki was concerned.  She didn’t engage in such things lightly, finding that the trust required for letting her pleasure and her body into the hands of someone else was far too much to risk.  

Of course he wanted her to do it.  

She swallowed hard and tipped her chin up a little bit.  “And if I lose?”

Not that it would happen, of course.  She hoped.  He just smirked and tipped her chin up.  “Accepting defeat already, are you?”

“You should know me by now, Loki.  All options are important to me.”  She arched a brow, as though daring him to say otherwise.  What she got was the softest of laughs.

“I’ve never seen you try so hard to keep it all tight together, darling.  It’s rather adorable.  You do care about the outcome of this, don’t you?

She had to.  Ignoring his question she started to shift herself so that she could straddle him but he had her flipped over and onto her stomach before she could, one hand rubbing her bare backside, bringing blood to the surface of her skin before slapping it.  She cried out quietly, biting her bottom lip to try and keep it in, to seem as though the last thing she wanted was to admit that she felt it.  If he assumed her to be proud, to be trying to hold it in, then when she gave in it would make him slip up and think he was winning.  The real question, the one flitting through her mind as she was repositioned off of his lap and left kneeling on the hard stone of the throne, bra gone and knees spread far enough apart that the sticky arousal on her thighs started to cool, was just how long could she withstand this before it became the truth?

His pants disappeared with the twist of his wrist, and though she felt her magic react to his own with almost a gleeful jolt, her attention fixed itself to his always impressive erection, the tip of which was just out of her reach.  She leaned closer, licking her lips and looking up briefly at Loki, before opening her mouth.  He filled it without question, Natasha moaning as though it was all she ever wanted.  She had a feeling she knew what this was.  He wasn’t forgiving her, and as the realization hit her, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock before she bobbed closer, she felt her heart drop an inch or so closer to the floor.  She wondered, idly as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard enough to make him growl in desire, if he ever would, or if it would always be like this where he tried to prove to himself that he deserved her as much as his brother, that he could do the same as Thor, that Nat wanted him as much as she wanted his other half.  She wished she could tell him that she did, wished he would believe her then, she thought as she looked up at him, eyes wide and pupils blown while she sucked his cock.  Hell, she wished she could’ve just told him from the start, before Thor had actually wormed his way into a small corner of her heart.  

_‘Stop.  Focus, Romanov.’_

If she got sentimental now about either one of them she’d lose it.  She couldn’t lose it, couldn’t consider the idea.  With a soft groan she redoubled her efforts, forcing her mind to think of new crafty ways to make him come as quick as she could.  One of her hands reached up to massage his balls, delighting in the soft groan that left his mouth as one of his hands twisted her hair painfully enough to make her groan as well, fresh bolts of pleasure shooting between her legs.  There.  This was better.  Mostly emotionless, a transaction between two people.  At least this one time she could try and see it as that way, and afterwards she could hold herself together by the seams and promise her subconscious it meant something, even if Loki never looked at her the same again.  If he even looked at her again.

He pulled away not long after, grinning as she whimpered in dismay.  “You miss cock already, do you?” He asked, tone biting as he took her chin and pulled her gaze up.  “Or just mine?”

“Just yours, my king,” she breathed.  

He laughed again.  “Don’t lie to me, Natasha.  You’ve done too much of if already.”  He seemed to flash in front of her eyes before a copy of him moved away, stepping behind Nat, still wet clock pressing at her already wet center.  Her eyes widened just enough to make him snort.  “What?  You’re surprised?  I wasn’t going to make this that easy on you, no matter how much you enjoy this,” he murmured as he traced her lips with the tip of his dick, his doppleganger sinking into her with ease, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that Natasha echoed, eyes closed and mouth gaping.  

“Make me believe you care for me, as you claim to do,” Loki said, filling her gaping lips before she could say something.  “You do it for Thor all the time, don’t you?  Or is it not pretend with him?”

He didn’t allow her to answer, and she felt pricks in the corners of her eyes.  What?  What the hell was going on?  She swallowed him down hard, trying to lose herself in the weight and heat of him in her mouth, in the quick pace of the man behind her, tried to focus on giving him as well as she was getting, thinking that so long as she could make him come first--.  

“Make me believe that you love me, Natasha.  C’mon, you can do it.  I’ve seen you do it.  I thought for the longest time you might have.”  His voice was pure torture, especially combined with the hard thrusts coming from behind her, the sounds of which echoed through the room, mingled with his grunts and her whimpers.  A finger pressed to her clit as well, making it all the more difficult, and she blinked quickly to try and keep the tears from coming.  He couldn’t see her cry, couldn’t see her that vulnerable.  

“Did you tell Thor you loved him before you bedded him?  All the while keeping me in your back pocket to make sure that you felt as though you held all the power?” He breathed, hips moving of their own accord into her mouth, now, so it was all she could do to keep her jaw as loose as possible, forcing herself to breathe quickly through her nose.  “Did he believe it?  Did you mean it?”  

She tried shaking her head, tried to get some sort of message out beside the grunts and moans leaving her with unwilling haste, filling the silence on her behalf, but the pressure made the movement all the more difficult.  What was more he caught her chin in his hand, slapping one of her cheeks lightly enough to garner her attention.  

“If you’re so good then make me believe, Natasha.  You can do it. I know you can,” he smiled and for the briefest of moments she thought she saw a crack of the old Loki beneath it.  “Give me what you gave Thor.  Now.  Tell me you love me.  Tell me!”

She never saw it approaching, never thought it even possible of her body to betray her like that, but sure enough she whimpered, mouth full,and her body seized up as she came, Loki’s double pulling out of her too quickly for her to get the right amount of friction to last her through the aftershocks.  The double disappeared as Loki pulled out and backed away from her, covering himself after a second as he stared at her.  She trembled from her place on the throne, on her hands and knees, tears falling freely down her face now.  

“Please, Loki--,” she rasped, hastening to wipe her face.  She  _was_  saying that a lot, but never before had she been so, well, ashamed.  He’d caught her in her act, called her out on it, turned her own damn body against her, and yet he stood in front of her with a mask made of steel and iron-fused blood running through his veins.  

“Clean yourself up and get back to your room.  I don’t wish to see you any longer,” he said, and before she could say another word he’d turned and left through one of the many back doors of the room.  Natasha watched him go with leaking eyes and a fractured heart, shivering as she tried pulling herself together.  Not even her magic would respond to her when she called it.  She was alone, completely and utterly alone.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a lot darker than I meant it to be. Whoops. Sorry guys. I'll try and get the next chapter out ASAP. Thanks for reading!


	17. Only Need The Light When It's Burning Low

Her room was blessedly empty when she returned to it, mind blank and movements robotic at best, still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened.  It was no less than she deserved, she knew.  He was hurting as much as she was, and without warning the tears began again, wetting her cheeks as she dropped her head into her hands, shoulders shaking.  The lighting and whole room around her, even, seemed to darken as she shoved one fist into her mouth to silence the cries.  She allowed herself the night, just that night, to come to terms with what had happened. Until then she'd push it all away, she told herself as she straightened her shoulders and swallowed the rest of the pain, determined instead to make herself indifferent, stronger.

Better.

There would be time for self pity later, when she'd finished the job and had the rest of eternity to wallow in it. As if spurned on by the thought, she felt bile rising in her gut and had to run to the bathroom before throwing up what little she had in her stomach, little more than water as she dry heaved, knees aching from the prolonged exposure to the hard floor.  Her body trembled when she managed to straighten, wiping her mouth and rising from the ground to go splash water on her face, trying to get rid of the shivers that had taken over her body.  She looked so pale, she realized when she looked in the mirror.  Weak.  It made her stomach knot and her eyes narrow before she turned away.  She wasn’t weak, had never been weak.  There were few others that had managed to last as long as she did, none who had the craftiness that she had to even come close to what she had?  

To what she was going to have?  And she would get her way.  Her thoughts turned to the Avengers, to Tony, Bruce, even Clint, those who didn’t want the Convergence to mean that Earth would once more be at the complete mercy of the Aesir, both in time and utter control.  She’d do it for them, and she’d do this for her.  Shoulders and resolve stiffening, she turned to the door, picked out a pair of black, butter-soft leather trousers and a black shift to go over it.  After tonight they’d just have three Asgardian days left, one year left on Midgard to get Thor back, change his mind, and reverse the Convergence to let it pass without letting Odin’s plan follow through.  If there was ever a time she believed that praying for strength and guidance from the Norns might help, it was certainly then.  

 

Steve was a blessing, Nat decided, having managed to get his way out of guard duty for the next few days to help her, and even more so for having gathered the Warriors Three and Sif, the four of which were gathered around a small table in the heart of the town.  They wouldn’t be disturbed when there was so much going on; apparently the king had thought it would be best to lighten everyone’s moods with a festival to celebrate the convergence, and to keep their minds from what Thor had done.  Loki was a smart one, indeed, but Natasha was grateful, now, for his vanity.  It would give him plenty to think about while ensuring they were given time to plan.  Fandral’s bright eyes looked up to meet her when she drew closer, a slight smile on his lips.  They’d not talked much in the past, often the man having been on patrol duty at opposite times as she did, or else off with the others, but they’d sparred before in the past and he was an honorable man.  Mostly.  

She wouldn’t hold it against him if it meant that he’d help.  

“My Lady Natasha, how can we help you?” He asked, standing a little when she entered, but sitting almost immediately as she held her hand out to still him, smiling herself.  Only Steve and Sif seemed to notice how empty her eyes were, the former’s gaze confused as she took a seat beside him.  

“I want to bring Thor back.” She said, her eyes flitting from person to person, doing her best to take in their expressions as best she could.  Sif’s lips twisted in a triumphant grin while Hogun remained as impassive as ever.  Fandral’s eyebrows had shot up and the only time she’d seen Volstagg’s jaw drop further was when she’d seen him pack away a sandwich of impossible proportions.  

"My lady," Fandral started. "We all care for Thor dearly, but you're talking about treason."

"It's suicide," Volstagg murmured. "No offense meant, but to go against the kings express commands? What's more to bring Thor back would be to invite Jotunheim to invade as it would invalidate the deal with the Jotunar."

"What proof is there that Thor did it?" Sif asked. "Even Heimdall was away from his post at the time."

"And when would Thor willingly give in to a surrender or exile when his father is in the Odinsleep?" Steve reminded the.  Sif turned her smile on him and Nat nearly cracked her own grin at the way that his cheeks reddened.  

“How do you propose getting off of Asgard when the Bifrost has been closed, and Loki knows of each way in and out of the realm, secret or not?” Fandral asked, leaning a little closer, expression guardedly curious.  Natasha preferred it to Volstagg’s still unsure expression.  

“Again, he’ll be distracted with the festivities and with his own task as King to do anything until the last day, when he has to go to Midgard to do . . . whatever there is to do for the Convergence.  That’s when we go is right after he leaves.  He won’t have time to consider that anyone else is following him down.” Natasha murmured.  “Until then he’ll keep a close watch on the secret passages between realms more so than the Bifrost, and as for that . . . I believe Heimdall might help us.”  She hoped so; it was the only crux in her plan.  The second was that she’d attempt to jump between realms again and pray that she landed on Midgard with the rest of them, but that didn’t bolster much confidence.  

In front of her the cogs in the three men’s heads seemed to be turning, Hogun leaning back first.  

“And say we do get to Midgard.  What then?” He asked, words sharp and cutting to the very base of Natasha’s plan. “We bring him back up, assuming we can find him, and he reclaims the throne?  You and Loki have been close in the past, just as you and Thor have been.”  Natasha’s jaw clenched slightly, nails biting into her palms as she felt the bile rising once more.  “You are content to see them fight for the throne, knowing full and well that Loki will be treated like a traitor should he lose, a usurper should he win?”

What other choice did she have?  She’d let the others go to find Thor, allow them to convince him of his legitimacy on the throne and the wrongful accusations he’d been forced to leave under--though she wondered how it was that Loki had managed to get him to leave, if she was truthful with herself--and face Loki herself if it came down to it.  And if it all went sour . . . Well, she’d only accept any semblance of defeat or death after the Convergence was undone.  She looked over to catch Steve’s gaze.  She’d talk to him afterwards, ask his council on the matter and hope he understood.  

“Loki made his choice to do this to Thor in the first place,” Sif muttered, her eyes darkening.  “He may love his brother but that jealousy between them has always been a dangerous thing.  We all knew one day it would find a way between them.”  

Natasha tried not to notice the way that each of their eyes flicked to her.  Okay yes, she might have been the catalyst, but still!  She was trying to make it right.  Again the need to throw up came back to her, though she was certain there wasn’t anything left in her stomach anyway, and she managed to fend it off with digging her nails deeper into her palms.  Pain.  Focus on the pain.  

“Well, I’m in,” Fandral sighed.  “I see little to no other alternative, and even if there was?  I owe Thor my life for many different occasions.  I’ll not turn my back on him now when he needs us most, trapped on that barbaric land.  No offense Steve, my lady.”  

Steve just dipped his head quickly.  The other two fell into line shortly after, and Nat knew that of course Steve and Sif were in on it as well.  She touched Steve’s shoulder with her hand before excusing herself to walk away.  He took half a minute before following her.  

“You’ve got something else planned.”  She hated how transparent she could be when it came to strategizing with him.  

“I think I can take on Loki by myself,” she murmured.  

“Like you did earlier today?” He asked, brow furrowing and hand reaching out to her, squeezing her upper arm gently.  She gently pushed it off, not going to make it if he kept bringing it up and she kept feeling this nauseous.  “Natasha, I know you care for him but--.”

“Steve, I can do this,” she promised.  “I just need you to make sure that they get Thor back here, and don’t bring him to the Convergence site.  I don’t want him getting in the way.”  Once he was back on Asgard, hopefully there wouldn’t be enough time between taking back the kingdom and seeing to his family for him to deal with the Convergence.  She swallowed hard, body seizing as she forced herself to stand up taller.  “Steve, I really need you to do this for me. Please.”  She was beginning to hate that word, hate the taste it left in her mouth, but it softened his brow and shoulders enough for her to know it’d done the trick.  

“Alright.  I can do that.  You sure you’ll be alright?  What about the Avengers?”  He murmured.  “Can they help?”

“I imagine they can try,” she said.  “But I don’t think Loki would take too kindly to that.  I’d say last, and final, option if it comes down to it.”  

“Understood.  A hail mary pass.”

Sure.  She just nodded, and seeing nothing else to say, excused herself to backdoors.  She bent over and heaved the minute she was shot of the building’s floors.  The back alley she’d stepped out to was empty, thankfully, as she wrapped her arms around her middle, wondering how in the hell she was going to get through seeing him again if this kept on.  If the very thought of what had happened, what he’d meant to her made her sick then--.  Well, at least she could learn how to tough it out.  

 

He didn’t show himself at dinner that night, and though there was excitement enough with the talk of a tournament to be held the next day, Nat couldn’t find it in herself to feel anything but the gnawing uncertainty in her gut.  At least the rest of the Warriors Three seemed to be in good form, Fandral and Volstagg carrying on as though nothing had happened, while Sif and Steve sat huddled close together, one of Steve’s arms wrapped around Sif’s upper waist.  Natasha smiled at that, glad something good seemed to have come of Odin’s delusions of ruling the entire universe.  Still, she was afraid, afraid of Loki finding their plans, afraid what the repercussions would be for her as well as for those she’d dragged into helping her, about what it would mean to fail.  She worried quite a lot and ate little because of it, even knowing that she had to try and keep up her strength.

She’d just prepared to stand, hoping sleep might calm her stomach and fix whatever was wrong with her, when she caught sight of Frigga moving her way, her touch gentle as she drew closer and she reached out to take one of Natasha’s hands in her own, but her smile tight.  

“My queen,” Natasha dipped her head in respect, catching Frigga’s face softening a little by the time she looked back up.  

“Lady Natasha, would you take a walk with me?  I find myself needing a little fresh air.”  

If possible, Natasha’s stomach bottomed further.   _'Shit.'_   “Of course, I would be honored.”  She smoothed the skirt of her dress a little before following the Allmother out, wondering all the while just how much she knew about what had happened, and at the same time was terrified to find out.  

The air was brisk outside, yet pleasant, smelling richly of burning animal fats and the spiced wine they sold as the night seemed to get a little cooler.  Not that Natasha ever minded, she loved the winter, but the chill that rose up her back was less than comforting when the woman beside her kept an eye on her, gauging her reactions.  Natasha tried to block it all out, to act as though nothing was wrong, though it was difficult when even as they strode away she could hear Volstagg’s roar of a story above everything else.  

_“They thought they’d outnumbered me, simply because I’d been separated from the others, thought I might keel over and die just because I was alone.”_

“How are you fairing, Natasha?” Frigga asked, turning her attention to the redhead, as though she could block out the story being told in the feasting hall with words of her own.  

How was she doing?  That was a question Nat wanted to know as badly as Frigga.  Still she painted her face up in a small smile and gave an almost off-handed shrug.  “Well enough, I suppose my queen.  I mourn Thor’s absence.”

“Yes.  I’m certain you do.”  

_“Their blades were sharp, yes, and they toyed with me for the longest time, slashing to try and test just how quickly I could evade their attacks.  They hadn’t thought I’d be able to be so sprightly when I was so weighed down.”_

What the hell was that supposed to mean?  Natasha turned her eyes to the ground, gnawing on the inside of her cheek as she tried to find her next words, tried to spurn her brain into overdrive to think of something clever.  All she got was a grinding in her head, the cogs that worked so fluidly before nearly halting with a lack of fuel to keep them going.  “My queen I--.”

“I am well aware of what happened between yourself and my boys,” the queen murmured.  

_“They thought I’d be trapped, not knowing that I’d worked my way out of many a more deadly situation.”_

“Y-you do?” Natasha asked, her eyes wide as they flew up to Frigga’s face.  Against her wishes she felt the fear and panic begin to well in her eyes and chest, growing until she thought the latter might burst.  

“Did I not warn you that the two of them had rather dangerous tempers and temperaments?” She murmured, turning her face to the side to watch Nat’s face tighten, her usual impassive facade cracking from the tension and stress.

“Yes, my queen.  You did,” she said, and her voice sounded more resigned than it had in some time.  Regretful, Natasha might even say.  “And I should have listened to you.  I am sorry.”  

 _Loud laughter, Fandral likely had made a quip about Volstagg’s weight.  “I feigned that I was worried, pretended to sweat it out as they neared me, and when one slashed I managed to block his blow with the butt of my axe, driving it clean through his helm, and with a speed they had not seen of a man my size.”  Again, more laughter.  “I pushed through their defenses, leaving them stunned and bleeding in a matter of moments.”_   

Frigga stopped them, reaching once more for Natasha’s hands, her grip tightening ever-so slightly as their eyes met.  The queen looked exhausted beyond belief, and Nat’s heart went out to her.  “I do not think I have to tell you to make this right.  I believe I am right to assume you are working on that as it is,” she said, shaking her head as Natasha made to speak.  “No.  The less I know the better off we will all be.  I trust Loki with my life.  He will be a good king, an excellent monarch.  He has the intelligence and the makings of it, he always has.”  She smiled at Natasha.  “But I worry for Thor.  This banishment . . . he has no recollection of where he is, and even Heimdall and myself cannot see him.  Only Loki knows where he is, and though I have tried to speak to my son on Thor’s behalf he sees this as destiny.  As an irrefutable change because to bring back Thor is to take away Loki’s crown and his sense of entitled responsibility.  Which is why I need you to do it.”  

Whatever Nat had been expecting it wasn’t that.  A verbal lashing, or a moment in which the queen gloated that she had been right, but a plea?  Frigga looked move to near tears, and it broke Natasha’s heart to see her like that.  

“Of course my queen.  I’ll do all that I can,” she assured her, bending her head to press her lips to the backs of the woman’s hands.  

“Please do. I know you care for them both, I can see it.  This weighs heavily on you as it does me.”  

“I feel guilty for what I have done, yes,” Natasha murmured.  

Frigga nodded, reaching a hand out to cup the side of her face and allowing herself to smile sadly.  “Then make this right.  Good evening, Lady Natasha.”  

 

She didn’t sleep well that night, as expected, Frigga’s words weighing heavily on her consciousness.  Halfway through the night she had to get up to throw up once more, clutching her stomach as she curled in on herself, trying to find solace in the cold stone floor pressed on her salted, wet cheek.  What had she possibly done to deserve this anxiety attack on her body?  She’d been in plenty situations before when she’d been stressed, but this?  Perhaps it was how all Asgardians dealt with it when fighting was not enough.  

Between coughing and sobbing she didn’t hear her door open, or the soft boot steps that padded closer to her, didn’t realize anyone was near her until the strong arms hefted her up and brought her back to her bed.  Loki didn’t make a sound as he laid her back down on the soft sheets, tucking her in and pausing only when Natasha’s hand reached out to grab at his sleeve.  

“Don’t,” she begged, though she couldn’t yet look over at him.  He shrugged off her grip, having none of that.  

“Look at me."  The order was soft, yet she buried her face in the pillow to prevent herself from following it.  No, she couldn’t, couldn’t bear to have him look at her like this again.  Soft fingertips prodded at her chin, and though she resisted for a half minute or so he got his way, staring into her bloodshot eyes, watching as her bottom lip trembled no matter how hard she bit down on it, watched her whole body shaking.  For once she saw no pity, no apology in his eyes, only curiosity and sorrow.  It was damn near worse.  He gave a quiet sigh and after releasing her face removed his armor one piece at a time, setting it on the bedside table, all the while not meeting her gaze.  He was warm when he crawled into bed beside her, holding her tightly in his arms, letting her bury her face in his chest as she sobbed openly, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt to keep him there.  No tricks, no illusions between them, just a need of a different sort than either of them had ever wanted to recognize in the past.  

He was gone by the time she woke up.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, not as long as the past chapters have been but I hope it's satisfying enough! Finals are just about done, thank goodness, so I'll have more time to hopefully devote to this story and finishing it up! [Though I'm really sad to see it go] I do have to say, though, that I've got a second planned, so fear not! This is not going to be the end for this universe =] At least so long as nothing incredibly bad happens. Fingers crossed. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, it means the world to me and helps me keep writing! You all rock!


	18. Fill Your Shadow

The time that they had left passed in a blur, as far as Natasha was concerned, and though she was ready to fight for what she wanted, to get the damn thing over with and fix the convergence so there would never again be a chance to further turn Midgard into Odin’s play thing, her anxiety about what was to happen surely had began to show.  She was barely sleeping, despite having told herself she needed to be more than well rested, had had a difficult time keeping food down even though she knew that if she wanted to keep her strength she’d have to learn how to swallow it down and keep it there.  Easier to say than to do.  The Warriors Three, Sif, and Steve were at least good at keeping her in high spirits.  They practiced and recited the plan time and time again, and Hogun had even gone as far as to talk to Heimdall for them all.  The watcher, while not looking forward to betraying his king, nodded that he’d understood.  Natasha was sure that he felt responsible for what had happened, having been ill for an unknown, unexplained reason, though it must have been bad enough for it to have pulled him from his watch tower, and whatever his reasons Natasha was just glad to have him on their side.  It was bound to make a few things easier.  

All that was left was Loki.  She hadn’t seen him since the night he’d stayed with her, and while that might have added to her anxiety a touch she was doing her best to not let it affect her.  She’d have to face off with him one way or another, whether it was there or on Midgard, she might as well try and develop the stomach for his disappointment.  What was more, since he’d taken to ignoring her she’d tried to teach herself how to use magic.  She’d gotten better at summoning matter, and the runes on her wrists were becoming quickly more defined, as though because of her constant practice. She was getting better at the manipulation of matter as well, able to pull the water from the air and cup it between her hands on more than one occasion, though it left her drained for a good couple hours afterwards.  It was still progress and she’d take what she could get.  More than once she found herself tracing Thurisaz with her finger, trying to draw strength from it as Loki had told her it represented.  Self-empowerment.  Chaos.  Surely the latter would be prevalent as soon as she got the convergence reversed, and she felt the corners of her lips twist upwards.  Well, that might please Loki a little at least.  It was his namesake after all, one of his many runes.  Wasn’t it considered his bread and butter, essentially?  

She hardly slept the night before the big day, no thanks to the parties going on just outside, the people celebrating with feasting and drinking.  In the hubbub most of the newer guards had gotten the day off while the older, more experienced ones were given guard duty to ensure that nothing went amiss, and so with light feet Natasha stepped towards Steve’s room and knocked quietly.  His smile was muted when he opened the door,  though he welcomed her in and offering her a seat on his bed all the same.  They both sat there in silence, Nat’s gaze lowered to her hands twisting the deep blue bedspread, and Steve’s fingers tapped nervously on his lap.  

“You’re sure about it?” He asked finally, voice still muted, as though he was afraid they might get caught.  She didn’t blame them.  Heimdall might still be on their side but with Loki’s power she was never certain, and in his absence she’d been unable to ascertain just how much he knew.  

“Yeah.  It’ll be fun,” she said, trying for a smile she knew didn’t meet her eyes, but she was too tired to care.  “It’s simple.  We wait till he gets ready to go to Midgard, Heimdall beams you all down to SHIELD so you can work with them to find out where Thor is, they should have technology by now that can do that.”  She hoped.  “And you bring him home. Try and figure out why the hell he hasn’t come back and how to reverse it.  I go after Loki with Heimdall’s help and reverse the convergence.  Or distract him just long enough to keep him from doing it.  Simple.”  Right?  Neither of them met the other’s eye, neither wanting to admit that they were worried as all hell.  With so much left up in the air, such as when would Loki actually have to do the spell, or would Heimdall be able to transport her right after him, and would she have time to stop him?  Would he even listen to her, or would he simply kill her on the spot for committing treason?  There were too many variables for her to be wholly comfortable with the plan, but it was all she had.  There was no going back, not now, and though Loki seemed to be doing a good job as king, it was her fault Thor had been cast out in the first place.  She owed it to him to set it right, and she owed Loki the truth.  Steve seemed to understand, tipping her chin up with his hand so that she was staring right at him.  In his eyes she could see his worry not just for her but for all of them, his anxiety about letting Natasha go alone and deal with Loki--especially a compromised Loki--and his resignation at not being able to do anything else about it.  She smiled and took his hand in yours.  

“You’re a great friend, Rogers,” she murmured.  “I’m really glad to have gotten to know you.”  

“Me too, Tasha.”  He said, pulling her into his arms for a tight hug, the strength and warmth of his arms a comfort more than Nat could say.  He was sturdy, a rock wall she could lean on in these times where she was sure of absolutely nothing except that he would have her back.  He was the best friend she could’ve ever asked for.  

“And you better make Sif happy,” Nat said quickly, looking up at him with a frown.  “I mean it.  You two are awesome together--.”

“Nat--.”

“No don’t ‘Nat’ me, I’m not finished,” she said.  “But don’t you dare make her cry or unhappy.  Or anything.  She’s way too good for that.”

“Natasha--.”

“Rogers I swear to God--.”

“You’re not dying, Nat,” he said with a small chuckle, though there was nothing humorous about it.  

She’d had too much practice with not being able to tell those around her how she felt, her wishes for them, her hopes for the future.  She wasn’t going to make that mistake with Steve, not when she didn’t know what the hell was going to happen in the near future.  There was too much that she couldn’t be sure of, too much that worried her, and if she didn’t get to say goodbye to Steve?  Well, she’d never forgive herself, dead or not.  She just hugged him back fiercely, pressing her face into his shoulder as she held onto him as though for life itself.  He rubbed her back, movements a little more jerky, as though he was taken aback by the sudden affection, trying to soothe her that it was all going to turn out alright.  She forced herself to believe it.  

 

They talked very little the next day as they gathered in the square, most of them managing to keep a smile on their face as they fed off of the amassed crowd’s energy.  It would be perfect to hide what they were up to, why they each had weapons strapped to their sides and kept looking to the bifrost.  When Loki set out for Midgard there would be a sign from Heimdall, he’d promised, in order to make sure that he didn’t get too far away before they could get to him.  Well, so Nat could get to him.  She took a deep breath, draining the mug of water she’d grabbed from one of the nearby stands, hoping that her stomach would hold over until this was all done.  If she could just get through on what little sleep she’d managed to get, not having crawled in her own bed until well into the morning hours, then they’d be fine.  Steve eyed her from the side.  

“When’s the last time you ate?” He murmured.  

“This morning,” she said honestly.  It had all come back up not long afterwards, but that wasn’t to be helped.  Damn nerves.  “You have your money?”

“We all do,” Steve assured her, each of them having a small satchel of gold for when they got to Midgard.  Just in case.  They didn’t want a repeat of Natasha’s first trip, didn’t have the time for it or any sort of mess ups.  She reached over and felt her own, just to reassure herself.  Yes, everything was fine.  It was going to be alright.  

“You could look a little more cheerful,” Fandral teased as he stepped closer, nudging her with his elbow as if it would make her happier.  She let out a humorless chuckle, rolling her eyes.  How was it that he found humor or a way to smile in every situation?  It was maddening, and at the same time nearly inspirational.  She allowed herself to take a half second to readjust, loosening her shoulders, forcing a smile onto her lips that could’ve almost passed for genuine if her eyes hadn’t looked so nervous.  He patted her shoulder.  

“Close enough, now you don’t stick out like a sore thumb.  It’s why everyone knows Hogun as the Grim, because you never see him smile.  Ever.  Not even when he’s with a woman.”

“You haven’t seen me when I’m with the ones that matter to me, then,” Hogun shot back, the banter between them light and familiar, enough to make Steve crack the smallest of smiles and Sif to relax with how comfortable it made her.  As Volstagg joined in it seemed almost as though nothing had changed, the three of them playing off of each other with ease, spawning jokes as if they breathed comedy and jabbed at the other with a curious mix of care and creativity that Natasha wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to recreate herself.  Maybe with Steve, or Loki if he ever spoke to her again after this.  Perhaps Sif.  

The smile left her face as she caught sight of a quick beam of gold light leaving the bifrost.  “Let’s go,” she murmured, sure that that had to be Heimdall’s sign.  What else could it be?”  They each turned to look at it and the humor of the moment passed, and in no time they were working their way towards the edge of the town.  They’d managed to get a few horses ready for them to ride, having managed to pass it off as little more than another way in which they wished to pass the already sunny afternoon away, and as they all saddled up and took off down the bifrost Nat felt her heart leap.  Was it possible that they could do this?  Could actually get away with it?  

But things were going far too well.  It wasn’t even a few minutes into the long ride down the rainbow bridge that Hogun yelled from the back that they were being followed.  True to his words, there were at least twenty or so guards following them on their own horses, looking to close the gap and stop the others from making their way towards the supposedly closed bifrost.  Volstagg and Hogun shared a look as Natasha readied her sword in a free hand, Sif and Steve doing the same, but before they could talk about formations the two turned around to confront the soldiers head on.  

“Go and bring back Thor!” Volstagg shouted as he swung his battle axe and knocked a couple soldiers off their horses and into the water with a loud apology that followed.  “We’ll join you if we can!”  He was doing his best to stun them, not to kill them, and Hogun seemed to be under the same mindset, knocking his blunt mace against the nearest head of a soldier.  Natasha would have to find time to thank them later, spurring her horse faster.  They dismounted in record time just as the soldiers had started finding ways to break through the two soldier’s small line, though Hogun chased them down to stop them before they could reach the others.  Fandral, Sif, and Steve all took their place in front of the bifrost first, Heimdall looking grim as he slid his sword into position with a loud hiss of steel into steel, turning the thick blade ever-so slightly.  Natasha watched, breath bated and eyes wide, as the three disappeared in a flash of rainbow light that nearly burned to look at.  How Heimdall got away with it would forever be beyond her as she had no time to think about it, taking her place right where they were the moment after they’d disappeared.  Planted her feet

“Take me to where Loki is,” asked, looking back at Heimdall.  The man pursed his lips.  

“You need to reclaim Thor, not his brother.” He reminded her.

“I need to save Loki from himself.  He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You’re loyal to the king, Heimdall.  Show it.”  She urged, watching from the corner of her eyes as the guards managed to get even closer.  His golden eyes never left hers, though, and a moment later she heard the familiar hum and groan of the bifrost warming up, its entrance sealing for a second time as the golden globes that arced above them began to spin and rotate, the spout pointing upwards into the galaxy.  

“He’ll not be the same man as you once knew, Lady Natasha,” Heimdall warned, hushed words  just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the mechanism.  “Be wary.  I will get you as close as I can.”  

“Thank you Heimdall--I couldn’t do this without you,” Nat admitted, sparing him a small smile.  He just dipped his head in acknowledgement and she turned to face the rainbow and rush of noise that came with being transported.  She watched, wide eyed and strong jawed, as the cosmos whipped around her again, and silently willed it all to go quicker.  How much time did she have left?  From the side of the tunnel of light she could see the stars and galaxies zip by, could see another realm disappear behind her as she moved, and she wondered idly if they’d be watching Loki as he tried to work the magic.  What would they think of him if she stopped him?  She swallowed hard, trying not to think of it.  She couldn’t risk getting personal, couldn’t let her emotions get in the way again.  She had to forge her heart from the same ice she’d been born into, had to steel her veins and block up her remorse with duty and iron.  

With a clear head she landed, feet first, in what looked like an empty alley in a metropolis, the sound of cars honking and driving on the first thing that clogged her ears.  She looked around, trying to discern where the hell she might have been, before stepping down the road and onto the main street.  People seemed to be running towards something, flocking as though their very lives depended on it.  Taking off into a run she followed them, weaving her way through those she could, and apologizing as she pressed past those she couldn’t avoid.  It was her best bet, she assumed, for finding him.  In front of her a couple people were pointing into the sky, whispering about the different realms, some of the voices angry, some in awe.  Each trying to identify those above, what the other realms must have been thinking about Odin’s plan.  

“It’s said his son is coming to do it,” a middle aged woman noted to her granddaughter.  “He’s come to give us the gift of a long life.”  She sneered at the word gift, as though the very thought of it was ridiculous.  

“Don’t we already have that?” The girl asked, sounding confused.  The older woman’s laugh echoed in her ear.  

“What we have is normality, they wish to push their beliefs on us further, think they can change our lives because of it.  Don’t listen to a word they say, doll.  They’re liars, all of the--.” Her words died down as she caught sight of Natasha running past.  She bobbed her head and offered a quick smirk, before running further, barely able to hear the young girl ask her woman if Nat was one of them.  She was too far away to hear whether or not the woman responded.  Her eyes were on a larger congregation by a huge, square building, the groups trying to trickle even closer, likely to get a better look.  It was at least a mile away, and judging by the convergence she barely had time to get there.  Good thing she was fast.  No longer apologizing, she pushed through the crowds as quickly as she could, doing her best to avoid those who looked as though they’d be hurt more by the fall, garnering negative attention all the same.  There were cries out for her to pay attention to where she was going, the shrill whistle from someone that signified that she ought to stop, but she simply pressed on.  There wasn’t time for this!  She was too fast as it was, and as the building loomed closer she could just see Loki standing in the center of a large cross, his arms outspread, dressed in the regalia of a god, the gold his helm and armor shining in the bright sun.  In front of him stood Gungnir, delicately balance on its tip, the staff’s head pointed upwards.  Around him were three guards, Ulfir one of them, and as she closed in he caught sight of her.  She could just barely make out the furrow in his brow as he sent the other two to meet Natasha, who just passed the building and into the open with the slightest bit of resistance.  

She didn’t want to kill them, but as she brought the sword out from where she’d been holding it, the blade met with the throat of the first guard, spilling his blood all over her. Her stomach wretched at the sight, but she didn’t have time to consider, ducking as the spear of her other adversary lunged over head.  She tripped him up with ease after lowering herself down to the ground, and with the twist of an ankle she flipped him over onto his back, took his spear, and stabbed his cape into the ground to pin him there.  At least that had worked.  Ulfir had now warned Loki of her presence as she stepped quickly closer, closing the gap with sword tight in hand.  There were cries from those around, the citizens pressing to get a closer look but not able, it seemed to, reach past the building, as though they were held off by a forcefield.  

“Go back, Natasha,” Loki snarled as he looked over at her.  Wind whipped at his cape, the green fabric furling and unfurling in equally quick succession, his bright eyes meeting her own, lips pursed tight together.  In his hands stretched golden magic that seemed to pulse as every second ticked by, trailing from Gungnir upwards, towards where the nine realms began to align.  “Go home.”

“I’m protecting my home,” she shouted back, before ducking as Ulfir swung hard at her head.  She tried sticking out a leg to trip him, too, but he jumped over it, blocking her elbow, too, before it could connect with his gut.  He wasn’t in a playing mood.  

“Knock her out and return her to Asgard,” Loki said, voice starting to grow louder, magnified even as the wind filled her ears.  The planets were almost in a perfect alignment and she felt her heart drop, even before the fist connected hard with her jaw.  Ulfir, she saw as she fell backwards onto the ground, smirked, his eyes darkening as they zeroed in on her, his prey.  His shoulders squared as he stepped closer to her, spear pointing out towards her throat

“You got me in trouble once before,” he murmured.  “You shouldn’t have made an enemy of me.”  

“I’m sorry, Ulfir, just let me talk to Loki,” she pleaded, scooting backwards and rolling to the side before his spear could stick in her side, backflipping to her feet before his second hit could connect, too.  

“Tried that once, but the king doesn’t want to talk to his whore this time.”  He snarled, lunging and knocking the sword from her hand with the hilt of his spear, before bringing it around to hit her hard in the throat.  She coughed, the wind knocked from her lungs at the pain, and he took advantage to grab her by her collar and throw her backwards.  Stars popped before her eyes as Loki’s voice began to recite a chant, the language too old for her to guess at its meaning.  The gold magic that had curled between his fingers began to multiply, its tendrils growing as they stretched towards the other realms.  

“Don’t call me that,” Natasha gasped, scrambling backwards and rolling to the side once more, the strong wind that had risen too quickly for her to think was natural whipping her red hair in her face.  It allowed the hard pole of his spear to knock into her head, dizzying her further, as she stared up at the man who’d trained her with the damn weapon.  He smirked.  

“You know, I really thought you’d be out of commission after I sent those two idiots after you to take you down,” he murmured.  “You caused too much of a ruckus with the others, you and Rogers both.  You humans who thought you could be Aesir.  You aren’t worthy of the immortality.  My only regret is that you had to involve the two princes in your schemes, and that you didn’t kill yourself out of shame for what you let those two men nearly do to you.  Perhaps if the good prince Thor hadn’t intervened you might have.”  

Natasha’s eyes went wide as she stared up at him, zeroing in on where he’d positioned the spear to pierce her heart.

“At least I got the chance to finish the job, and after I’m done with you I’ll find reason to do the same to Rogers.”  

Just as he was about to bring the spear down Natasha drove her foot up between his legs, finding his balls and nearly crushing them, padding and all, with the force of her kick.  As the man’s eyes popped she grabbed his spear and ripped it from his grip, sending him to the ground, before she drove the spear tip right through his throat.  Twisted it to hear it crunch beneath her.  

Idiot.  She’d never allow herself to be that vulnerable; she just needed a valid reason to kill him.  

Her attention now turned to Loki, who during her struggle had begun to build a barrier around him, his entire form shimmering with the same golden light as he kept repeating the same words as before, arms spread out and the head tipped backwards as he seemed to almost act as a conductor for the energy to flow through him, lips moving quickly.  With heavy steps she made her way towards him, the wind’s strength increasing as she neared him.  Her skin fizzled with the magic that coursed through the air, feeding her own until she thought she might burst from it all, eyes already watering from the heavy winds.

“Loki!  End this now!  Please!”  She begged, trying to step closer, one arm reaching out to him.  

“Go back to Asgard, Natasha,” he said, pulling his head forward to look at her.  Though he still glowed and the words still echoed in the square he turned to face her.  “This doesn’t concern you.  I have to do this for Asgard, and for Odin.”

“This won’t help anyone, and it won’t convince the Allfather of anything!”  She pleaded with him, watching as he winced with her words and knowing that she’d hit the right spot.  Her heart ached.  “All this proves is that you can be manipulated to do whatever he wants!  Don’t let him turn you into a pawn, Loki!  He’s playing you, making you subservient, can’t you see that?  Don’t let him play you like he has your whole life!”

She watched his eyes harden, the golden sheen to them lost.  Good.  Good, stall him. She could do that.  “What do you know of it?” He spat, hands fisting as he trembled in front of her.  The wind increased in strength, nearly pushing her even further away.  “What do you know of anything?  Of being a monster, or what I had to deal with, being second best to everything and everyone--even to the woman I love,” he spat, and she could see the tears brimming in his eyes, refusing to spill over the edge.  She pushed harder, watching with wide eyes as the gold seemed to recede back into Gungnir.  “At least I can show my father that I am a worthy son, a protector of the throne and the realms. I can do this.”  His gaze hardened and the tears evaporated from his eyes as his jaw hardened and his words turned to ice.  “And I will.”  He held his hands out towards her and the wind threatened to push her back again.  She braced her arms against the blow, feet skidding backwards.   

“I wasn’t with Thor because I thought you were a monster, Loki!” She insisted, head turned away as she struggled, knees beginning to buckle, his anger only fueling his magic and strength.  “And who are you protecting?  You’re going to get a lot of people killed doing this, for your own pride.  That’s no measure of a king!”

“Natasha stand down!” He ordered, pushing her even further backwards so that her arms ached.  She growled, feeling her strength being sapped, and tried to throw a ball of energy at the wind, trying to see just how far it would make it.  It fizzled out as soon as it was blown into the ground, only a few feet away from him.  With slow steps she tried to move closer, watching as he turned his attention, once more, to the convergence, speaking quicker now as the planets began to shift, started to pull out of alignment.  She was almost there!  

In a moment of panic she snarled and pushed harder, trying to manipulate the wind though she’d never messed with it before.  She shouted as she tried to make it yield to her, taking one cautious step closer, then another, working her way close enough to him to grab onto his collar and yank him down to her level, fusing her lips to his and cupping the sides of his face with her hands to try and get him to stay there.  

In his shock she took her chance.  “I’m sorry,” she murmured against his lips before two beams of energy left her hands, now positioned on his chest, and blasted him back.  The connection broken, the whole scene seemed to implode, the golden energy quickly sucked back into Gungnir before it, and Natasha were blown backwards.  She landed hard on her front, shouting in pain as she felt something hard sticking into her stomach, one of her knives having butted into her lower abdomen.  There was blood, and screaming as the force field was broken, and she turned over just in time to see herself bleeding from the stomach and--.

 _‘Where did that come from?’_  she wondered, seeing the blood pooling between her legs, thick and as deep red as Thor’s coat.  She heard her name bellowed on the wind, but it was all too much and she fell backwards into darkness.  At least she’d stopped it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna leave this here with a huge thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!  
> I know, I'm the worst ever for cliffhangers >.> Love you all so very much for sticking with me despite of it, though!


	19. Words Mostly Noises

“She’s lost a lot of blood.”

“We need to get her back to Asgard.”  The voice was strained, low with worry.

“We can’t move her yet.  Her levels aren’t stable--aren’t even close to it.  You move her now she’ll die.  We haven’t even talked about the damage to--.”

“I can’t . . . I can’t right now.  Just get her better, Mr. Stark.”  The voice was ragged.  

Sigh.  “Right. You wanna tell me how she got so banged up or why the hell this happened?  How you let it happen?”  

“She never told me.  If I’d have known--.”

“Everyone says that.”

A growl.  “You think I did this to her on purpose?”

“From what the other Asgardians told me you exiled your brother--the rightful king, and don’t you dare glare at me like that--simply because he looked at her sideways, then erased his memory to keep him gone so you could take the throne.  And her.”

“Is there a point, Mr. Stark?” The words were thick and growled.  “Because you’d better make it.”

“How do I know you didn’t find out it was Thor’s and hurt--.”

A shuffle and muted groan of pain. “Before you finish that appaling accusation know that I will mutilate you within moments for even suggesting I did anything of the sort.  Get her well enough that I can bring her home.  Understand?”

A cough and a muttered “Yes.”  Silence.  “Look, you’re not the only one who cares for her. Get it?”

Silence.  

“Besides.  If you knew a damn thing about her you’d understand _this_ is her home.  There is her prison, her penance because your dad is an asshole.  Here?  This is where she belongs.”  

“Just help her.  Please.”

“I’ll do what I can.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll try and put Ch. 20 up ASAP


	20. This Burden Came to Me

“Loki.  How long have you been here?”

“Long enough.”  A sigh.  “Have you come to take me back to Asgard?”

“No.  I came to see the lady as well.  How is she?  Were . . . I knew not about--.”

“None of us did.  Natasha included, I believe.  I do not think she would have done what she did if she had known.  She is not that cruel.”  

A heavier sigh, this one like a torrential rain.  “I am not certain.  She tried to talk to me about it before.  The convergence.  She asked me to change it and to stop it from happening the night you found us.  I told her I would not.”

“Then you and I are not so different after all.”  

The shuffling of a seat, another heavy sigh, then tense silence.  “So, what happened?”

“It reversed.”

A pause.  “Truly?”

“Truly.  Every year we will have to eat of the apples of Idunn.  I have already sent word to Mother to begin collecting them to distribute.”

“That as very wise, brother.”  

A sharp intake of breath.  

“Do not look at me like that.  You are my brother, no matter what you did to me for the throne.  I still love you, Loki.  You are still kin.  Mother told me--.”

“I didn’t blast you from the bifrost for the throne.  I did it for her.”

“You are not the only one who cares for her.”

“Then we are no closer to a solution than we were before.  I will not give her up.”

A short, humorless chuckle.  “Nor will I.  She loves me.  Give her up, Thor.”

“Surrender is not in my nature, Loki.”  The creaking of a chair and further shuffling, uncomfortable sounding.  “I do not wish to fight about this with you, brother.  Not now.  Not when she has been so close to the both of us and is so vulnerable.  I would not bring negative energy into this room, and you should know better than to as well.”  
Scoff.  “Why would you wish to stay with her if she does not love you?”

“Until I hear those words for myself, until she tells me to keep from her, I’ll not stop pursuing her.  She makes me a better man and points out to me when I am not.  She would be a good queen.”

Another scoff.

“And I love her as well.  I do, Loki.  You cannot doubt me when I speak so sincerely.”

“It doesn’t change a damn thing.”

“It doesn’t have to.  Just know that, going into this, I will not back down until she--and only she--directs me to do so.”  

 

Everything hurt as she felt the breath leave her body in a choked cough, eyes burning as she took in the stale white walls around her, her veins pierced with a variety of needles and machines beeping as her heart rate started to rise.  She gagged, hands flying to her nose, and started pulling the tubes that stretched all the way down her nasal passages, trying not to breath too quickly through her nostrils and watching in horror as it just kept going.  Eventually she threw it to the side and shuddered, the door to the right of her flying open hard enough to make her jump.  Loki stood in the doorway, followed by Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, the latter looking less relieved than Loki at her current state.  

While the god flew to her side and flung his arms around her, Stark quipped for him to not mess with the tubing in her arms, pulling her arms gently away to look at the damage she’d done to herself.  Minimal, he seemed to realize, as he looked back at the machines.  Nat buried her head in Loki’s shoulder, wrapping her other free arm around his waist as he clung to her.  He was shaking.  

“We were all so worried--you’d been asleep so long there was no telling what that magic would do to you--.”  He gasped for breath, eyeing her, trying to discern whether she really was okay.  She gave him a small smile, her jaw hurting already from not having used it for so long, before her eyes caught sight of a larger figure in the doorway.  Thor leaned against the frame and smiled to catch her eye.  In her arms Loki stiffened and pulled away, but she caught his hand in hers and squeezed.  

“Don’t leave me,” she murmured.  He’d done it before and she’d be damned if she let him do it again.  He seemed to understand, even as Thor stepped closer and she hugged him as well, his large frame comforting.  

“Good to see you smiling again Natasha,” Tony said from the side, and she turned her head once she’d let go of Thor to look at him, gracing him with another smile of her own.  

“Good to see you too, Tony.  And Bruce,” she said, catching his eye, then looking around to all four of them.  Why were they all checking up on her so intently?  “How long have I been asleep?”

“A little over five days,” Tony said with the smallest of winces.  Natasha felt her heart jump.  “Hey, don’t get worked up.  You took a hell of a knock to the abdomen.  We got you all stitched up but . . .”  And now he looked reluctant, eyes casting to the side, searching out Bruce’s gaze as his fingers twitched against his pants legs.  Nat wetted her lips, brow furrowed as she sought out each of their expressions.  What had happened?  

“Perhaps you two had better leave,” Bruce murmured, though neither of the men made any sign of having heard him.  Nat didn’t push it, either.  If it was that bad . . . but what could’ve happened?  She remembered a lot of blood after the fall, the feel of her knife pressed into her stomach but that hadn’t been too bad.  She could barely feel the pain from that.  There had been blood between her legs, but--.

“No.”  She shook her head, one of her hands flying up to her mouth.  

The nausea.  The emotions.  How helpless she’d felt the time leading up to the convergence, how she’d reacted to every new thing that had come up.  Her hysteria at night, and why she’d taken everything so much harder than she might have.  How she’d slipped up and shown her emotions, played her hand one too many times to Loki rather than keeping it to herself as she best knew how.  

“That’s not possible.  I didn’t--when I was in the Red Room they cut that part out of me,” she said, very serious.  Beside her Loki’s body tightened.  “They knew I’d be using my body as a weapon and it was too dangerous--I remember the damn surgery you cannot possibly be saying--.”

“Natasha, the apples of Idunn make you whole again.  Any imperfections you might have had, physically, it fixes,” Loki murmured at her side, one of his long-fingered hands coming to rest on her shoulder, pulling her closer.  She swallowed thickly, words clinging to her throat.  

“So what you’re trying to tell me.”  She took a deep breath, tried to collect herself as her free hand fisted in the blankets of her bed.  “I was . . . I had--.”  She shook her head, pursing her lips together tightly.  No, no she couldn’t do this.  She couldn’t.  She was going to be sick again and there wasn’t anything to be done of it.  

“You were with child when you hit the ground after stopping the convergence,” Loki murmured, his fingers now a constant pressure on hers, a rock that she tried to draw her strength from.  Her eyes met Thor’s, shocked to see he looked as solemn as she felt, and with her other hand she reached out for him, too.  It could have been either of theirs, and though Loki stiffened further at her side he seemed to understand.  It wasn’t about them, or their problems.  Never before had Natasha felt so empty, so hollow.  She’d been pregnant and she’d lost it.  She’d never before thought it was possible for her to have children, had never thought to consider the possibility.  If she had, if she’d known--.

Would she do anything differently?  

Her tacts would change, perhaps, but she didn’t want to think about that.  Didn’t want to think of all the ways she could have protected that which depended on her for everything. Her heart was too heavy as it was, her mind too sick with possibilities, and Tony and Bruce quietly excused themselves as Loki took a seat at Natasha’s side, Thor taking a similar one on the other side.  No one spoke after that, the two of them simply holding on to Natasha as much as they could, keeping her close to them as they kept her safe, gave her strength.  She felt her wrist burn, the runes on her skin as though they were set ablaze.  

Catastrophe.  Change.  Brutality.  Healing.  Strength.  Resistance.  

How was it possible that so many different aspects could come into play in such little time?  

It felt like months before she could finally find her voice again.  “I’m so sorry.  Both of you,” she choked.  “If I’d just been upfront from the start--If I hadn’t--.”

“Natasha, don’t think like that,” Thor urged, tipping her face towards his, his frown deep and eyes bleeding concern.  Had she been in her right mind she’d have been touched that he felt so bad for her when she’d done so much to them, but then?  All she felt was guilt.  Guilt and regret and remorse bubbling in her stomach and making her want to throw up again.  

“It’s not your fault,” Loki promised, both of his hands on hers now.  “Do not think on it like that, Natasha, do not shoulder the burden.”  

But how could she not when it was her body that she’d destroyed, the two brothers she’d pit against one another?  Though she felt strongly for the both of them, how was it they could stand to even be near her?  The tears ran noiselessly down her cheeks and fell onto the blanket on her lap, her shoulders trembling as she struggled to keep it all in.  It was impossible to keep from them, however, and in no time Loki had managed to climb into her bed with her, Nat nestled in his chest, magicking it to grow wide enough that Thor could come and lay beside her as well, guarding her back and taking care not to cut off any of the lines she had from her arms into the machines.  They kept her like that for the rest of the evening, even when Tony came to check back on them, neither willing to move unless they absolutely had to.  

 

What felt like every night she’d wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, struggling against the two, breathing hard as she tried to keep herself from suffocating.  Loki would always wake first, the lightest sleeper of the two, and without question he’d take her face between his hands and press their foreheads together, whispering to her to calm down.  To breathe.  He’d hold her gaze even as her eyes would go in and out of focus, trying to see past the images of Loki covered in gold, Russia in flames, Ulfir standing above her with a spear about to pierce her heart--.  Thor would come around next, and with gentle caresses rub her back, voice a low rumble as he promised her she was safe, and nestled between the two of them her heart rate would go down, return to normal.  She’d slump forward against Loki as Thor kissed the back of her head, murmuring that they wouldn’t let anything happen to her, that both of them were going to protect her.  As her body shuddered between them and she felt them tighten around her, she knew it would be true.  

But it never stopped the nightmares from coming back anyway.

 

She wasn’t allowed to leave for a week at Tony’s say-so, and Natasha didn’t mind it at all.  She preferred the quiet of the SHIELD base she’d been transferred to, still in the United Kingdom, knowing that she’d get more rest there than she would in Asgard, where the eyes would be turned to them all the time.  Though Thor had to return to Asgard, now that the time streams were aligned he would go during the day, and leave at night to rejoin Loki and Natasha; the former would not leave her side for anything short of Natasha’s request, and every so often she did ask it.  She needed alone time with her thoughts, no matter how unwise those around her thought it, likely afraid she might try and end her life or escape or something drastic.  No, all she wanted was some peace and quiet, some time with her thoughts to process what would happen, and though Loki was a master at keeping silent, his presence was a noise and a yearning to reach out to him that distracted her far too much.  He was a crutch, they both were, but perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad every once in awhile, when she needed it.  They’d put aside their disgruntled behaviors to stay with her each evening, after all, so perhaps there was hope for it all.  She clung to that in her darker moments, when she’d shoved her fist into her mouth to keep herself from crying out in the night, the scars on her stomach burning with nothing more than just a memory of what could’ve been.  

“You’re sure you’re feeling alright?” Tony asked when the week was up, his brow pulled together in his concern for her.  They’d grown closer after what had happened to Natasha, Tony having been the one to help fix her up as best he could when she’d been brought in at Loki’s request, trusting only the very best.  Though Tony hadn’t had necessarily all the medical knowledge that was required for her procedures, he had called in the best money could buy, and Bruce was on hand to help prevent as much damage as possible.  

Natasha nodded, rubbing her wrists and forearms gently, especially on her right side where the runes seemed to constantly throb with unused energy.  “I’ll be fine, Tone.  Thanks for everything.”  She smiled, extending her arms a little for a hug that he was more than happy to give, holding her tight.  

“You know Bruce and I are here for you should you need anything.  I mean it.  If those assholes give you trouble.”  

Natasha chuckled and shook her head.  “I appreciate it.  But I’ve gotta get back.  I kind of committed treason on my way out.  Against Loki,” she winced.  And now that Odin was supposedly nearing the end of his Odinsleep, the reversal of the convergence having shocked him into near movement the other day, she really wanted to get back before he woke up and discovered something was amiss.  The last thing she wanted was to get everyone else in more trouble on her behalf, especially Steve, Sif, and the Warriors Three, all of whom had urged Thor to tell her that they were eagerly awaiting her return.  She pressed her lips to Tony’s cheek and allowed herself a genuine, small smile, before releasing him.  There was a soft knock on the door not long after that, Loki coming to collect Natasha, and with one last goodbye she left him.  

“Always a place for you in SHIELD and The Avengers if you want it!” He called out as one last ditch effort to get her to stay, and though she called back and told him she appreciated the offer, she couldn’t deny thinking it over, just in case whatever happened on Asgard didn’t manage to go well.  

“You’re sure you’re well enough to travel?” Loki asked as they walked away, nothing but concern on his face for her.  Since the accident he’d been different--well, they both had--and though she knew she was bound to get tired of them treating her like she was fragile she had to admit it was nice for a change to not have to think as much, to just, well, be around them.  Not that she hadn’t enjoyed their company before, of course.  

She chuckled and fit her hand into his, squeezing it gently.  “I’m about as fine as I’ll be, Loki.”  And that was all there was to it, she supposed, unable to know if she’d ever fully be well enough, ever.  There was only moving forward, that was all that she could do.  Right?  Mourn the possibility of what could have been, then collect herself, put the pieces together, and try and continue on.  She’d done it before, with Russia, with Loki and Thor, and now she’d do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the shorter than normal chapter update, but what I've got planned next didn't really fit with this so I figured I'd just post this while I had it. Enjoy, and thank you all so, so much for the comments! Oh my goodness, you all make me smile so much, even though I seem to be putting your emotions through hell -super hugs- Thanks again!


	21. Can't Let You Go

Natasha had hoped that, given some time, things might start to look up and get better, that maybe even in the crazy days that came to follow her messing up the convergence she might lose focus of what had happened, that the nightmares of waking up with blood between her legs would stop, that she might not feel as though she had a gaping hole in her chest.  

It didn’t.  

For the next two weeks she went to bed with a feeling of trepidation, never knowing which of the nightmares she’d have to deal with and hating them all the same.  Loki often spent his evenings with her, just holding her and soothing her as best he could when she’d wake up, and more often than not Thor would come and do the same, wanting to help in any way he could.  Since it helped Natasha, and kept happening over and over again, Loki had long since learned to stop dissenting.  Nat couldn’t have been any more grateful, huddling closer to the both of them each night, face buried in either Loki or Thor’s chest as she trembled and sobbed.  She’d never been this broken down before, not after her parent’s death, not after she’d been brought here.  Somehow this felt real, more strange and because so it seemed to have more power over her unconscious mind.  Loki had offered potions to help her get through the night, to keep her from dreaming, and though she appreciated the gesture she’d always shake her head.  No, she needed to conquer this herself, however she could, no matter how long it took.  

But time, it seemed, was anywhere but on their side.  The Allfather was getting close to waking up, and more than once she’d caught Thor and Loki hissing conversations to one another, Thor’s hands tight as though they imagined strangling Loki, while the latter simply glared daggers more dangerous and sharp than real ones as he countered whatever Thor was saying.  They would always stop whenever Natasha would enter the room, having disappeared to either speak with the queen, who’d been requesting her presence more often (likely as a result of the boys asking her for guidance), or else returning from yet another sparring or training session.  Fighting was the one thing she knew, could master, and as such she threw herself into training as she hadn’t done since her days fighting and infiltrating for the Red Room, trying to find the same nirvana that she had once before, the same drive.  Some days were better than others, that was certain, but as she felt her body grow more comfortable with the strain, stronger with the hours spent practicing, she noticed a certain amount of tension slip from her mind as well.  Fighting and sparring were two things she could always be able to lose herself in, and the others were more than accommodating in helping her achieve whatever help she needed, Sif especially.  

It didn’t hurt that the goddess was looking for tips from Natasha about Steve, but Nat didn’t mind that either, the conversation easy between the two of them as they went back and forth, exchanging blows, Sif conscious of avoiding Natasha’s stomach, and Nat grateful for the thoughtfulness.  

“Has Loki asked you, yet?”  The goddess asked one afternoon, the pair of them taking a break for water, both covered in sweat and grinning like idiots as the post-fighting endorphins kicked in.  Nat’s brow furrowed as she took a deep drink from her mug.  

“Asked me what?”

Sif’s lips made a small ‘o’ of surprise and she flushed, murmuring that it was nothing.  Nat had never seen her look so flustered before and though her mind tried to fill in the gaps herself with what she imagined Sif could be talking about it only added more strain, rather than take away.  Whatever it was Loki wanted to ask her she wasn’t too sure she wanted to hear, didn’t know if she could even think of.  It wasn’t that she didn’t love him, she later explained when Sif asked her about what her feelings were towards the man.  

“I do.  He’s an ass sometimes,” she admitted while ducking low to avoid a kick to the face, catching Sif around the knee and bringing her down with a loud slam to the mat.  “But we all are, it doesn’t make me love him any less, but--.”

“Thor?” Sif offered, flipping herself back up and driving her fists towards Natasha’s face.  Nat managed to block most of them, though the one to the jaw hurt like a bitch.  

“Exactly.  The last time I tried to get caught between them it didn’t end well, but the thought of losing both--.” The lump in her throat made her an easier target, allowing Sif to sneak a move in which to floor the red head, and Sif apologized for it a moment later.  Nat waved it away.  “They’ve both helped me so much with . . . with what happened.”  Would she ever be able to say it?  To fully come to terms with it?

An obsession with the past had gotten her into trouble before, though, and hagalaz burned as though to remind her of her mistakes.  But how did she get away from that?

“So don’t decide,” Sif said, lips pulling back in the smallest of smiles.  “Tell them they can both have you or not at all.  They've shared most everything else in their lives, I don’t see how this should be any different.”

“But--.”  Nat frowned, trying to comprehend how it would even work, though she couldn’t eny the idea was really appealing.  She wouldn’t mind be shared by either of them, especially since they both held her heart captive in their own ways.  They’d been perfectly polite and gentle to her after her accident, never once asking for anything in return, and she couldn’t have asked for better help with her night problems.  

“But nothing.”  Sif smiled as she stood in front of Nat, shoulders relaxed and chest heaving with how hard her breathing was coming.  Nat watched as she reached a hand out to cup Natasha’s chin.  “They both love you, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes, so neither will give you up while they can help it.  They won’t like it at first, but since when have either of them been conventional?”  Her bright eyes softened.  “And if they both help then you tell them that.  Your heart and happiness and health right now takes precedence.  Understand?  Natasha, don’t cry.”  She sounded apologetic but Nat couldn’t help it, her emotions running very close to the surface lately.  It was uncomfortable most of the time, like when she broke down in front of Frigga or Baelor, the newest captain of the guard when he told her (with good reason) that it would be awhile before they could allow her back onto the guard.  But with Sif, who put her arms around Natasha without hesitation though Nat knew, had it been anyone else, she would’ve told them to toughen up?  It felt how Nat imagined coming home after being gone for years might, comforting and non-judgemental, welcoming, as though she and Sif were family.  They might as well have been.  Damn her for getting choked up again; the whole emotion thing just wasn’t working for her.  

“Thank you,” Natasha breathed shakily, smiling up at Sif with water eyes.  Sif just chuckled quietly and nodded to signify it wasn’t a problem before she nudged Nat in the side.  

“You’d better go to them,” Sif murmured.  “Before they kill one another in competition.”

“Right.  Thanks,” she smiled and couldn’t help but add: “Oh, and you and Rogers better tell one another how you really feel.  I might just slap you both if you don’t stop making eyes at one another.”

“And here I was, helping you from the goodness of my heart, and you bring that up?”  Sif asked as she watched Nat leave.  “Thanks Natasha.”

“Thank me when something finally comes of it,” Nat threw over her shoulder, for the first time feeling lighter than she had in days.  Months, even.  

Natasha found both princes in Frigga’s study, raised voices stifled by the soft knock on the door.  Loki answered and his face immediately softened to see Natasha, gaze brightening when she gave him a small, genuine smile and pressed her lips to his cheek.  “Can I come in?”

“Certainly,” he said, standing to the side to allow her entry.  Thor smiled to see her, standing and embracing her gently. She returned the gesture and kissed his cheek as well.  Oki, though he’d long since stopped pouting every time she showed Thor affection, looked away at where Frigga was seated at the side of the room, watching her with a look of curiosity.  The Allmother chuckled.  

“I didn’t summon her here, this is for you three to discuss; it’s not my business.”  Frigga said as she rose.  After greeting Natasha she excused herself, saying she’d be with the still slumbering Allfather if they needed her.  Her lengthened stare at the boys almost signified something, but Nat left it at that.  Loki almost seemed like a lost child, his eyes fixed to where his mother had disappeared.  What the hell had happened?  Her gaze turned expectantly to Loki, then to Thor, who was also staring at his brother.  The dark haired man huffed.

“Really?  You’re putting this one on me?”  

“Do you honestly want me to explain it?” Thor asked, arching a brow.  Based on Loki’s slight wince he had him there.

“Right,” Loki sighed as he locked the door with a simple spell and led the, quite confused Natasha, to a chair.  She took in their body postures, the way that they both tensed as they looked from themselves then back to her.  Loki seemed more tense than anyone, with his hands fisting then relaxing as he tried to calm himself, while Thor’s simply acted as though they were about to summon Mjolnir, as though he needed the strength of the hammer.  Geez, who had died?  

“Okay, the pair of you acting so strange is not helping at all,” Natasha broke the silence, turning her curious gaze from one to the other.  “What is wrong?”  

“Your actions, your treason against me and against the Allfather’s plans--while admirable,” Loki said.  “Had a certain effect that is not recommended.”

“It reversed, I know that much,” she said, sitting forward in her chair to watch as they stood a little closer together, as though self consciously preparing themselves for the worst.  Strange and hilarious that they only became closer as a result.  “You think he will seek me out and, what, lock me up?”

“Our father is not known for his mercy,” Thor admitted with a grimace, his eyes going dark, and he stepped forward to take her hands between his own and squeeze them.  “But we think we have a plan for how to keep him from that path, as neither of us want to lose you.  You see, were you to--.”

“Natasha, marry me.”  Loki cut in, his green eyes catching her surprised ones, while Thor in front of her wheeled around, a snarl on his face.  Before he could retort Natasha squeezed his hands to keep him in front of her, though she couldn’t deny that her heart had stopped for a full half a second at Loki’s words.  “It will keep the Allfather from being able to kill you; as a princess of Asgard, and my bride, you will not be able to be touched.  You could be protected, and I love you.  I want you to be my wife--.”

“Yes, well you ought to get in line,” Thor growled, eyes narrowing as he watched his brother.  “You are not the only one who loves her, Loki.  I, too, feel deeply for you,” he said as he turned to Natasha, switching to bend down on one knee.  Above him, Loki rolled his eyes.  “And I would be honored to have you as my wife.”

Oh.  She felt her throat clench up, her eyes searching one, then the other. What the hell kind of situation was this?  Whose idea was it to put her in such a shitty position?  When she didn’t say anything both of them turned to the other in fury, angry for pushing her into choosing, for putting unnecessary pressure on her when she needed to be relaxed, for jumping the gun and not providing a unified front like Frigga had suggested--.

“I love you both,” she murmured, her eyes seeking the both of their gazes, looking as equally between the two of them as she possibly could.  “I came to tell you both that I didn’t--I tried going behind both of your backs before to be with the other one, and as a consequence I’ve got strong feelings for you both.  Loki, I trust you and am glad to have your trust, and Thor you are a constant source of my strength.  I could not put one ahead of the other, and would not even if I could.”  She said, watching as they both grew more confused.  Hah.  Good, at least they knew how badly it sucked to be in such a confusion position.  “And I would have you both, or not at all and escape to Midgard to avoid your father.  If you both intend to put me in a compromising position--.”

“You would never be able to escape him,” Loki countered.  

“Then you’ll both lose me for good.”  She said, lifting her chin defiantly.  His eyes widened at the shock of it and quickly recanted.  She struggled not to smirk as the pair of them shared a look of resignation.  She owed Sif, and vowed to push Rogers into making the first move if it killed her.  The poor woman deserved as much happiness in her life as she could get.   

“Natasha, you cannot marry us both.  There are strict laws against polygamy in Asgard,” Thor murmured.  

“But not laws against cheating, correct?  And it’s not truly cheating if we are all in agreement to share and not get jealous.  It’s something we all need to work on as it is,” Nat murmured, herself included.  She would have to keep herself from feeling anything of the sort when, and if, Thor found himself another woman who caught his eye, or even Loki.  She gnawed on her bottom lip.  “If marriage is the only way to keep me from dying, as you say, then it would anger the Allfather less if I married Loki.  No offense,” she said, catching his far too excited to care grin.  Thor looked crestfallen, but she tipped his chin up, her eyes meeting his.  “If I married the heir to Asgard’s throne, the one who will likely be married off for political reasons, the Allfather would only seek to null our marriage and I’d find myself either dead or married to Loki.  Or worse.  Correct?”  

“Aye,” Thor murmured, though it was clear he still didn’t like it.  Natasha brought her lips to his in a quick kiss.  

“You don’t have to like it, but it’s the only plan I can think of since you two seem so determined to pop this on me and I cannot stand to lose either of you,” she admitted, beckoning Loki over to her so she could take his hand and kiss him as well.  It was a mark of how far he came that he didn’t even flinch.  He was getting her out of the bargain, after all.   “But I would like to be the both of yours so long as you are willing to have me, else I’ll go pack my things and get out before he wakes up, as you said.”

“No,” Thor cut in with a heavy sigh, bringing the hand he still clutched in his own up to his lips.  “I would rather you alive and married to Loki and still partially mine than dead or on the run from my father, where I cannot protect you.”

“And I will do my best to keep from getting jealous and throwing Thor off the bifrost again,” Loki murmured hastily at Natasha’s look.  Well, it was a start.  She just smiled and once more kissed them in turn.  

“Besides, have either of you considered the all too exciting prospects of all three of us in the bedroom?” She teased, winking when Loki snorted and Thor gave a hearty laugh, the mood lightening.  “I couldn’t do without you.  The last couple weeks . . . I need you both.  Please.”

It was Loki this time who embraced her first, drawing her up and into his arms, allowing Thor to hug her from behind as she took her now familiar place between them.  She couldn’t imagine being any happier anywhere else.  “We’re here for you,” he promised in her ear, kissing her cheeks in turn, then her forehead.  Her heart ached at the touch, the familiarity of it all, and how perfect it felt to be between them, as though it was meant to be this way from the beginning.  

Hell, maybe if she’d just proposed it from the get go she could’ve avoided all the pain of the last few months.  She smiled against Loki’s chest, burying her head in it, doubtful that with their stubborn antics anything else but the very worst would’ve gotten through their heads.  

The ceremony was very small, and held that night with Frigga officiating.  The Warriors Three, Sif, Steve, and Thor all turned up to watch Natasha and Loki wed, Natasha’s gown white with elegant golden beading and filigree around the torso and hips, the one long shoulder, and the hem.  Loki and Thor both looked their finest, dressed in their ceremonial garb, and though she said her vows to Loki she could feel Thor’s presence as a comfort beside her, calming her heart and her mind as much as Loki did when he stared into his eyes for his vows.

"Natasha, my darling, I love you more than I can possibly hope of conveying within the few minutes I have to speak, and I just want to say that you have made me the most happy man in the nine realms.  I could not imagine living with anyone else but you for the rest of time. There is no sun, no moon, no purpose without you, and the day you said yes to being my bride is only eclipsed by today, when you--hopefully," he teased. "Say yes to be mine, and for me to be yours from this day until the end of days." He swallowed thickly. "I love you my darling girl."

Natasha felt her throat seize up, her eyes already welling with tears, knees going weak enough that she had to force herself to lock them just to stand straight.  “Wow,” she managed to croak, much to the chuckles of those around her, even Thor, who reached over to squeeze her shoulder and kiss her cheek.  His own way of approving, she supposed.  “How the hell am I supposed to say no to that?” She teased, blinking quickly to keep herself from crying.  Norns knew she’d done far too much of that recently, and this was too happy a day to ruin with tears.  “I love you, too.  You’re one of the only ones I’ve ever met who’s been able to keep up with me and keep me in check, yet you’ve never once acted as though you were better than I am, but as though we’re equals.”  Though she kept his eye for the speech she hoped Thor knew she meant the same for him.  “I’ve never had anyone do that for me, and the last few weeks has only solidified that I couldn’t imagine being any happier than where I am right now.”

Loki’s grin was infectious, forcing her own upwards as her pulse skyrocketed.  Frigga was even a little misty-eyed as she offered them both the chalice in front of her, the pair drinking the mulled wine slowly, bodies turned to face one another and eyes locked the entire time.  As they shared their first kiss as man and wife she shivered in his hold, moaned at the taste of wine on his lips and the feel of him against her, the knowledge that she couldn’t have been any luckier hitting her hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.  

That night, after the mild feast they’d had in celebration, she took both men to bed, and though she didn’t feel up to much she spent as long as she could kissing them until her lungs ached and her lips were swollen, their fingers threaded together like their lives depended on it.  She’d never felt so safe, so protected as she did between the pair, and as she fell asleep with her head on Thor’s broad chest, Loki’s lips caressing her throat as she floated into oblivion, Thor’s heart her lullabye, she knew she was home.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks so much for reading and for being so patient with me! For those who don't know my computer just bit the dust. Sigh. So any future updates are going to be slow until I either manage to get it fixed or get a replacement. My roommate is a saint who let me borrow her laptop to get this up, so many many thanks to her, and to everyone for sticking through this with me! Love you all and your comments are spectacular. 
> 
> P.S. Following this fic there will be a second, follow-up fic, called "Consign Me Not To Darkness", and likely third part to this story, so please stick around, follow/keep me on your alerts if you're interested and--should I get the chance to get some chapters written I'll publish them ASAP! If you don't want to wait and are looking for snippets, I'm going to be updating my tumblr under the tag "BreatheDarkness" and bits of what I've got [so I don't keep clogging up the blackfrost tag.] Again, thank you all so much, I love you to pieces, and your support is beyond inspirational.


	22. Epilogue: Here Comes The Reign

The giant tree gave a quick shiver, large, deep green leaves falling from its high branches, spiraling downwards to collect on the soft grass and thick roots that twisted and turned throughout the universe.  From up high, the youngest gave a quiet gasp, the ball of yarn in her hands falling into her lap as her eyes went wide and her spine straight as a pin.  

“Skuld?”  Urd asked, rising to her feet and beginning the climb up to her youngest sister, pushing the silver hair that had fallen into the child’s eyes out of the way when she finally got high enough.  Verdandi was at their side in a moment as well, curious but tight-lipped as Skuld began to tremble, her small hands reaching out for the branches of the tree beneath her.  It seemed almost to shudder again, causing the other two to look up in wonder, more leaves cascading around them.  

“I don’t understand,” Verdandi said, her voice soft and pained.  “What is happening?”

“The convergence failed,” Skuld finally said, though her words shook with the tree as though they were one in the same.  With haste she looked down at the golden threads that had once filled her hands and started pawing through them.  “The time has begun to speed up.  The twilight of the Aesir will be upon us.”

“How soon?” Urd asked, pulling the hand that had moved to cover her mouth away, shaking her sister.  “Skuld, how long?”

“A year.  Perhaps two.  The end is coming,” she murmured, eyes suddenly rising.  They were filled to the brim with tears as her bottom lip began to quiver.  “And it will affect us all.”

“Ragnarok,” Verdandi said, voice little more than a whisper.  

 

On an iron throne a giant grinned as the Other bowed before him, one hand rising to his chest while he sank to his knee, relaying the news of Odin’s failures, of the unrest in the nine realms.  

“The perfect moment to strike.”

“Not yet.  Let us see what this child king does first,” Thanos boomed, voice serious as a hurricane.  “When he is at his lowest, and he will be, we will strike a blow that with echo for a millenia.”  He sat forward in his seat a touch, wide teeth showing as he grinned.  “Assemble the scouts: the chitauri, the skrull, and send word to those who call themselves the Resistance on Earth.  I would know more about the latter.”

“Yes my liege Thanos.”  In a whirl of smoke and ash the Other vanished, leaving the enormous titan to recline on his throne.  A shadowed figure took her place beside him, fine features unrecognizable even as she rested her hand on his and turned to look.   

“Soon,” he promised.  “You will have dominion over all, and those living will sing your songs before they go to their graves my dear.  My love.”

Her lips split back into a skeletal grin, onyx eyes flashing, before she disappeared and Thanos was left with an ache in his heart and determination in his eyes.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, that's it! Again thank you so much for sticking with this roller coaster of a fic, and it has been a pleasure to write it for you. I hope you stick around as I work on Pt. Two: Consign Me Not To Darkness, and if you are interested in checking out what I've got, I'll be updating my tumblr with the occasional snippet under the tag "BreatheDarkness" Thanks again so much, and I love you all for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone interested, and because my brain won't stop with this story, a fanmix is now available using the songs most of these chapter titles come from, as well as what else fits along with the story. Enjoy!  
> http://8tracks.com/futurerustfuture-dust/better-not-to-breathe-than-to-breathe-a-lie

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Faith and Power](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4719131) by [Ophite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophite/pseuds/Ophite)




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